Rounding the corner of 2013

It's time for the obligatory end-of-year post where I mull over one random timespan and project film and tv depictions of young adult life/insecurities about what my friends on facebook are getting up to while I for the most part sit eating yoghurt and chocolate raisins/all of last years low points and failures onto another random timespan in most likely a vague, predictably clichéd and unrealistic way. 

I'm not under any lofty illusions that last year was the best. year. ever. and that next year will be the best. year. ever. where I solve the Arab-Israeli conflict and get 55254 likes on a photo of me on a beach, jumping in the air, silhouetted against a sunset, with arms outstretched and inexplicably perfect hair as if to say 'I have reached my full potential in 2014. Years from now people will look back and say: 'Ah, 2014, that was Esther's year'' I always get annoyed at myself for writing such long sentences when I blog. Here's a short sentence.

I think the first thing to say is that this year has flown by and was characterised by big changes. Although I started at university in 2012 it feels like this last year was when I really came to terms with it and stopped entertaining ideas of dropping out.

Centre: The frepping team for Collingwood Freshers' Week 2013 - October; Clockwise from top left: Dressed as Barbie for a Toy Story themed fancy dress formal - November; with my three housemates before Summer Ball - June; being 'proposed' to on Collingwood Day - June; a Lumiere installation - November; after dip-dying my hair pink - February; seeing Stornoway in Newcastle - November; 'Refreshers' event in Newcastle - January; fulfilling my childhood dream of going to Hogwarts - August; Stornoway - November; in charge of college gay pride weekend - November; Collingwood Day with my housemates - June; Winter Solstice with the President - December; outside the European Parliament in Brussels - September; Lumiere installation - November; seeing Les Misérables on the West End - April; with friends on the beach at Aldeburgh - July; photobooth at Winter Solstice - December; Atomium in Brussels - September; Durham Cathedral upon my return - September

2013 marked changes in terms of moving into a student house, as well as starting all my new modules this September. I went on my first holiday without parents, went to my first concert, saw a musical for the first time and broke up with my long-term boyfriend. It also marked a change with regards to my attitude to problems, I feel like I've been facing them rather than avoiding any troubles that pop up. The year also saw me making a load of new friends, passing my uni exams, putting on weight and feeling a whole lot better in myself, feeling closer to my family, getting more involved in charity work and being a fresher rep in September for my college at uni - truly one of the best, if most tiring, weeks of my life.

Obviously each year brings with it its difficulties - uni wasn't always particularly easy, I didn't ask for help when I needed it and breakups can be a bit naff in some aspects. Looking back though, despite sometimes feeling like I was really low and hating life there are surprisingly few negative points to make about 2013. I perhaps spent a bit too much money and let my worries hold me back a little bit especially when it came to going to events/parties. I could have worked a bit harder at times and been a better friend. I also failed to turn into Jennifer Lawrence/Beyonce which is the ultimate disappointment.

The next year is shaping up with various meetings already booked into my beloved filofax. It'll see me turning 20 (dear God please no, it's a slippery slope from here onwards and I REFUSE TO GET OLD),  battling with essays and exams that actually count - God help me - going to Germany on a field trip, stumbling my way through attempts to have some form of love life, taking part in my college's production of Grease and trying to put a bit more weight on and tick off the last few things on my fear list.

I don't do resolutions, so all I can really say is that I hope by this point next year I'm happy with how I've responded to whatever has been thrown my way, I've done a bit more exercise and gone to a few more parties/events instead of avoiding them because of petty worries, I've started applying for jobs FUTURE ESTHER YOU NEED TO APPLY FOR JOBS NOW  and I'm a bit heavier.

Goodbye 2013.
See you next year,
Est
xx

So you're having a panic attack...

Everyone gets nervous and panicked from time to time. Sweaty palms before exams, slight trembles before giving a speech or elevated heart rates when you see that guy who once smiled at you in a way you think must mean he's as in love with you as you secretly are with him. Ahem.
Unfortunately, some of us have known the joys of severe panic attacks, which are apparently a natural 'fight or flight' reaction. Quite how that works is beyond me - my panic attacks neither seem like fighting spirit or an act of flight seeing as I tend to be found cowering on the floor, incapable of movement and feeling like I'm drowning. I've heard people trivialise and doubt the intensity of panic attacks before, I see your point - they probably look quite funny and seem a bit silly to onlookers what with the frantic breaths and runny nose - however panic attacks are commonly mistaken for heart attacks which perhaps illustrates how earth-shattering and terrifying they can feel. Research has shown that experiencing panic attacks frequently causes sufferers to be even more apprehensive, often avoiding situations that could trigger an attack.

Panic attacks come on suddenly, sometimes triggered by the most trivial of things and often with a feeling of intense terror and impending doom. Those symptoms are accompanied by shortness of breath, a pounding heart, dizziness, and chest pain and what I'd describe as walls closing in and crushing me. A barrel of laughs all round.

But what do I do when I'm feeling on edge? I've had a tonne of CBT and medication, have tried soothing music and hypno-recordings while I nap, and have read about bizarre breathing techniques akin to yodelling. I'd like to think these have made me calmer in general but I've no way of measuring that kind of thing. Ultimately once I'm having a panic attack I can't reverse it, nothing will make me 'snap out' of something that's gripping me by the throat but there are things I find help.

Understanding the condition has helped - I know that a surge of adrenaline is a result of this so called fight/flight conundrum and I have had all its symptoms explained to me. I no longer worry that I have an undiagnosed heart condition that is about to kill me. This means when I have a panic attack, although it's scary as hell, I know where I'm at and I try to let it take its course.
I try to remind myself that a high state of anxiety cannot last forever, most panic attacks only last for 15 minutes. I repeat that this will pass, this will pass, this will pass. Simple but effective.
The ever-famous breathing exercises which are admittedly different for everyone, and admittedly sometimes difficult to remember in the height of anxiety. Breathing though, is the key. I close my eyes, and breathe deeply into my stomach. I breathe in for 5 seconds and out for 3, and gradually work up to 7 seconds in and 5 out, but this does take a while especially when the instinct is to snatch as many breaths as possible.
Once my breathing's a bit steadier, I find a spot on the wall/ceiling-maybe a photo if there's one nearby-and focus on it whilst continuing my breathing just to give me something to concentrate on. Alternatively I'll go through the lyrics of a song over and over and hum that to myself. Usually it's Mama you've been on my mind by Jeff Buckley, for no known reason to me.

I know that a panic attack could come back at any point, and as much as I hate them I'm slowly growing to be ok with it, I feel like I'm anchored for any storms that blow my way.

Festivities and Fa-la-la-la-laaaaaa-ing

I have arrived home for Christmas to a fanfare of trumpets and adulation from my thousands of fans who lined the streets to see my return to Suffolk. Part of that might be a slight stretch of the truth. Having spent the past week in bed and/or visiting a close friend in Bristol I now have 4 weeks left in this rainy, sleepy, flat little patch of the world before my return to Durham. I do take the mick but my lovely lil' hometown is like a familiar beacon of safety whenever I come back. Maybe it's the well-trodden path by the river and the little line of shops and cafés etched into my memory so well I could navigate them in my sleep, or being around all my oldest friends and my family, or just being somewhere with no hills that makes me feel so comforted.
Despite not yet feeling particularly festive, something I put down to my old age (sob) and the distinct lack of snowfall this year, I can already tell that this Christmas is going to be filled with family, friends and food, with as little stress as possible. I will do some work though, honest, I will. Probably. Maybe. A little. Perhaps. 
I may be writing this from bed, my skin may have broken out into a 13 year old boy-like state, I may have just this very second felt the knife to the heart of realising I let a cup of tea go cold and the worst of all 8 Harry Potter films may have been on tonight (HP+HBP, for its focus on the ron-lavender-hermione love triangle as opposed to the interplay between dumbledore, snape and harry, obviously) but I'm just feeling very positive about life, especially on the back of a wonderful trip to Bristol. It was lovely to slot right back into place with one of my best friends after not seeing one another in any other way than a Skype screen for about 15 weeks. Lying in bed with her eating chocolate and watching films (yeah, let's stick to the feminine stereotypes) gave me warm, fuzzy 'I love life' feelings I haven't had in a long time. Such is the bad influence she has over me, I have possibly gotten another piercing which hurts when I smile, each time I adjust my hair and whenever I add/remove layers of clothing. I also may have gossiped and moaned with her about single life after drinking a respectable amount of Bombay Sapphire and cocktails before getting a full experience of Bristol nightlife, complete with scoring a triple 20 in darts versus a group of late twenties/early thirties sadly spoken-for men dressed up as Anchorman characters (my proudest/strangest moment). Good to get that out of my system. Watch this space for me pursuing a career as the next big darts thing.
Christmas, as anyone afforded the wondrous luxury of an eating disorder* will tell you, is not always the most wonderful time of the year, but I'm screaming 'f*** it' to the world in many ways in my life right now, so that's the approach I'm taking with food too. We're talking currently-playing-Taylor Swift 'f*** it' sentiments, to give you a sense of scale.

*So much sarcasm. Dripping with sarcasm.

I am nothing if not a vehicle for life-affirming quotes

"Everyone who terrifies you is sixty-five percent water. And everyone you love is made of stardust, and I know sometimes you cannot even breathe deeply, and the night sky is no home, and you have cried yourself to sleep enough times that you are down to your last two percent, but nothing is infinite, not even loss. You are made of the sea and the stars, and one day you are going to find yourself again."

        Finn Butler 

Eating Disorder Revisited

This post could trigger some people. Please take care, but what I'll do is put all the tricky bits after a jump break, if you don't want to read anything that may upset you then stop there.

It comes as no surprise to you, I hope by now at least, that my relationship with food is not always a-ok. I thought I had everything relatively under control (aha I spend my life controlling myself) but living out this year - instead of in catered college accommodation like last year - is presenting me with new challenges. Now I don't mind a challenge, bring it on, but I won't pretend that I'm always enthusiastic about facing challenges related to eating head on. Some days, like today, are calamitous. Good word. Today was bad for specific reasons I won't go into now for fear of triggering someone but suffice it to say my diet was silly and that I'm now wide awake at quarter to 2 thinking about it incessantly.
 I can easily find myself wanting to throw things (preferably lots of pieces of paper-that always looks dramatic) into the air and scream 'To hell with this!' but that option isn't really there for me. If I run away from a problem today, I will only have to confront it tomorrow. I know I'll have good days and bad, but at times when every day is just plain average it quickly becomes demoralising.
The issues I'm having with food at the minute are complex. There are practical problems like how much I'm spending on food, it's so expensive-who knew? I tend to quell this worry by thinking that in the future when I am saddled with debt I highly doubt I'll be ruing the days I bought fresh meat and lots of fruit, more likely I'll be regretting buying quite as many jumpers/scarves. Seriously though, Durham is cold, I can justify those purchases.
Also fresh food needs to be used up quicker than I anticipate so perhaps some forward planning from me would help to map out what I'll eat when and ensure food doesn't go past its best sitting in my fridge. This could help get me to stick to eating full meals too, as if I've made the commitment in writing that I'll be eating salmon and veg on Thursday I'll be more likely to keep true to my plan and do it. The actual cooking of the food is fine, despite a few frantic calls home about how much spaghetti constitutes a portion. I'm impressed at my abilities, in particular my Thai Green lemongrass and ginger prawn curry. *Awkwardly waits for applause*

 On the whole I'm fine but I worry about how varied my diet is, in a way I suspect other students don't have to. If I have a day, or worse a few days, where I don't eat much I get intensely anxious that I'm getting ill, whereas my housemates given the same situation could just accept that they weren't particularly hungry. Some days, like today, I struggle to eat meals and instead just snack aimlessly in the hope I'll eventually take in enough. Obviously that's hard given the nutritional value of most snack foods. I can see that some of my habits aren't healthy, but don't necessarily know how to fix them, and quite frankly can't be bothered with the effort. If I can coast by like this, then should I? Equally - I worry that when I go back home my routine is going to be thrown way off course, having just settled into one here.
Overall I feel I've reacted to the stresses this term has given me pretty well, in fact I've gone full circle and have been eating more when I'm stressed than ordinarily. Shocker. I can't help fearing that as my tell-tale troublesome familiar stresses peak over the next two weeks (academic stress is the absolute worse for me) I won't be as successful with managing it. I can feel it happening already but don't feel able to do anything about it. Accepting a relapse as an inevitability seems like I am an utter failure though. I am so tired of it that I could cry. Hard times indeed.



This is why today was bad, don't read if you're going to find it difficult to see what I ate today, please please please.

Ch-Ch-Changes. The return of university, panic attacks and single life

Three months is a very long time.
It's (apparently) how long it takes for a baby to learn to roll over, and also the length of time it takes Mercury to orbit the Sun. It's also how long I neglected to post or update at all. May I extend my mega huge apologies to the hundreds of people left feeling bitterly disappointed, i.e. my dad who I suspect is the sole reader of this. Hi Dad.
Actually no, I've had 1300 views. *Does a jig of happiness*

Here is a really quick, really brief update of what 3 months has brought to/taken away from my life

• I went to Brussels for 4 days with my boyfriend (yay, truly beautiful city) 
• Said boyfriend and I broke up after 3 years (still getting used to it, huge adjustment, being single is both good and bad)
• I came back to uni (WOO) and was a fresher rep for all the new freshlings. (Double Woo) I'm in my new house (woo x3) where I'm having to cook and eat independently. (woo/boo) I'm feeling lonelier than ever (boo) but that might be because stresses and all my commitments are piling up and up and up (don't even go there)
• I decided to come off my anti-depressants and anti-anxiety pills (not sure how this is gonna pan out)
• (Ignore this dad) I discovered I don't hate washing up after all
• I renounced all semblance of my feminist outlook and dressed up as Barbie in an all-in-one lycra unitard for a fancy dress formal.
• I saw Gabrielle Aplin, and then Jimmy Carr - cultured and outgoing person that I am.
• I started drinking Green Tea, and just drinking more alcohol in general. Fun. My alcohol tolerance levels have increased, watch in awe as I manage to have a vodka and coke without falling to the floor. Probably something to do with my weight gain. Hell yes.
• On that weighty note, I finally got the go ahead to help set up an eating disorder peer-support group at my university. Big woops all round.

Neil Hilborn Is My New Hero - His Performance of 'OCD'

This has been doing the rounds after its feature on Upworthy, and deservedly so. I'm quite often the type to well up at videos/songs/poems/books/anything remotely emotion-provoking but this had many other more hardened people I know in various states of tears and awe as well.
This video is of Neil Hilborn reciting a beautiful poem that he wrote which sums up his experience with OCD and the effect it had on his relationship. The ending is serene and gut-wrenching. Enjoy.

Dwindling Motivation and Poorly Skippy Hearts

I am really struggling at the minute to even get through a day without wanting to nap or curl up into a ball and pretend the world doesn't actually affect me.
Perhaps it's because it's the holidays and there's nothing much to do although I have internship work to be getting stuck into and could/should be reading up early for next year's degree course.
Perhaps it's because I am perpetually shattered considering it's currently 2am and there is no hope of me being able to sleep due to my mind whirring like a machine this trend will likely continue.
Perhaps it's because you know what I am fed up of doctors having had 19 doctor/nurse/psych/hospital appointments since coming back home at the end of uni and I am weak and feeling oh-so grandly sorry for myself.

It's bizarre.
I have always been a hardworker.
Not even that, I've always been a work-herself-to-the-bone worker (yes I understand the cringe of the to-the-bone reference) and yet I've found myself so.....meh....about doing anything.
Then I sit here.
Lay here.
At night and mull over how useless I am for wasting a day.
A day that could be used to be a better person. A smarter person, a happier person, a prettier person, a more popular person. Somehow.
I have no motivation to leave the house.
Or to be happy.
Or to eat healthily. And with that I wonder why do I even need to care about eating healthily? Should I care about eating healthily? Is this a bad thing to care about?

I'm not even sure how I feel.
I hate doing nothing.
But right now I don't want to do anything.

The doctor fandango is exasperating. I feel like I get passed from person to person to person, and that more often that not they see eating disorder and blame whatever I'm seeing them about on that. I've now been given tablets for my stomach which has been causing problems for years now but I can't even motivate myself to take the pills. I'm still waiting for someone to take my heart seriously. It trembles and skips and flutters and pounds and pauses and tightens, not like panic attack palpitations, like it genuinely forgets how to beat properly. It does this for maybe 15 minutes at a time every few days. It's starting to scare me, but worrying about it won't help.

Practise What You Preach

*Googles the difference between 'practice' and 'practise'*

When people come to me for advice, which they do from time to time, I tend to come out with one (or all) of these pointers for stopping the down-beat moments and remaining positive. I can't remember exactly where, but I found it on the internet somewhere and have since kept a copy taped near my desk and in the front of my notebooks, because I thought the advice was so simple and true.

Problem is I'm pretty woeful when it comes to following my own advice, and the low spot I've been in recently could almost certainly have been alleviated by following these pointers.

• Always say yes to seeing friends.
• Eat breakfast every day.
• Recognise that positive change rarely happens overnight.
• Accept the mess-ups, but try not to let them happen again.
• There is a song to remedy every situation on the planet.
• Appreciate the people in your life.
• Look for the good in everything.
• Try new things and try them often.
• Treat yourself as well as you treat others.

My new challenge is to follow my own little tips a little bit more each day.

Being thin is not the answer. Video.

So I probably shouldn't post two videos in a row (profuse apologies, some proper writing will be on its way) but I'm in this one, spot me if you can - really not that hard, I hold up a sign with my name on....

I answered a twitter call to help someone with their project on eating disorders for their YouTube channel, and it's not a bad video, if a little long and difficult to read sometimes!

Here are my pictures from the video, 

Now off to finish re-reading HP (PoA).

Videoooooo on loneliness and social media

I'll be honest I love anything with clever graphics like this

The Big Black Cloud of Low Self-Esteem

self-es·teem

 

noun

1.

a realistic respect for or favourable impression of oneself; self-respect.

I spend most of my days repeatedly mulling over negative thoughts about myself, and continually feel like I am just 'not good enough.' What it is that's indicative of my unsatisfactoryness (no, not a word, but we'll go with it) varies on a regular basis, it's sort of cyclical. Be it my academic pursuits, my body, my general appearance, my mind, my social life, my job prospects or anything else that can be applied to me I promise you I've felt like it's unworthy of the slightest bit of praise. I've never really put my finger on why my self-esteem is frankly non-existent but it's probably (partially) due to my perfectionism. If it's possible to get a better mark, to be prettier, to be funnier, to be kinder or more liked then that - in my head - is a sign that I'm nothing special.
It would be a relief to have one day where I'm not weighed down by the burden of disliking myself, or wishing I were a different person altogether. The number of times I've dismissed compliments or refused to go out because I don't want to be seen/spoken to is mounting up as time goes on. Having low self-esteem wears me down, I wake up already ill-equipped to face the day with a cloud of self-loathing looming overhead and it makes me more vulnerable to low spots and panics.
It was when I was completing a CBT exercise recently, that asked me to focus on one thing I was proud of and happy with about myself a day that I realised something that could be a bit of a game-changer....*whisper it now* I actually do quite like a fair few things about myself. Shocking.
My hair, though not what it once was -sigh, screw you eating disorder- is alright, actually. My skin, though not perfect, is quite good, my eyes are ok, although I kid about wanting a nose job there are no glaringly obvious faults with my face and my body is pretty well proportioned. Tall and slim. People go on about wanting this sort of figure all the time. And yeah, I wish my chest were larger, and I'm really not keen on my arms, but am I ugly? I don't think so. I'm ok. Ish. Whilst I've never thought of myself as intelligent people tell me that's the case, and I've achieved academically, if that's what you choose to measure it by. I love my degree, take pride in my work and got a 2:1 for first year *fist-pump*. I've got friends and a boyfriend, who I'm happy-as-larry with, and I am eventually learning to like the person I'm becoming.
It seems the problem I've had has always been what other people thought of me, or rather, me second-guessing what other people thought of me. When I get down because of my appearance it isn't because I particularly dislike the way I look, it's because I dislike what other people may think of me. I don't like that other people may think I'm a bad person or that I'm stupid or annoying and I take that worry and extend it to the assumption that people do think badly of me, they must think badly of me.
All this focus on what other people think is tiring as hell. Especially when in all liklihood I slip past without them noticing my bad hair day/that I mispronounced Morgenthau. Plus if someone doesn't like me, for whatever reason that may be, do I really want to spend copious amounts of energy worrying about that and trying to change his/her mind? Do I want someone in my life if they're going to be negative? Of course not. So if I apply that to myself...do I want the negative part of my brain in my life if it's only going to be negative? No ta.
I've never liked the techniques I'm sometimes told to use of telling yourself 5 happy affirmations a day or sticking positive I-love-myself notes all over the place, it just seems too self righteous. But maybe I could start detaching myself from other peoples' opinions by focusing more on me and what I want, not running through 'oh but what will people think?' before each trivial decision I make.
Wisdom done and signing off for the night.
xx

'The worst loneliness is not to be comfortable with yourself.' - Mark Twain

 

What the World Needs More Of.....SoulPancake

<3

East/West split for Depression and Anxiety

I've been an avid follower of PostSecret, which incidentally you should definitely have a gander at, for many years and so I follow the account on all-powerful twitter.

PostSecret invites anyone to send in their secret anonymously on the back of a postcard. Once a week a page of about 20 secrets is posted onto the internet, with secrets ranging from beautiful to frightening, saddening to funny.

ANYWAY
To bring me onto my point
The PostSecret twitter account recently tweeted a link to this article which details a study showing that Anxiety is more common in the western world, with Depression more prevalent in the East.
Obviously I clicked on it, I can't control myself when I see a title as interesting sounding as that. And I was really intrigued by the findings, especially seeing as the surveys done to reach the conclusion seemed incredibly extensive, with over 480,000 people taking part. (Not like those cosmetics adverts you see that boast 94% success rate and then tell you they only tested 30 people) What was probably most interesting was that the leaders of the research were very quick to point out the difficulties in gathering data relating to mental health, and stressing the point that, actually, we shouldn't jump to conclusions about what the study really shows. People still, no matter where they are in the world or what their cultural or situational circumstances, don't always give honest and reliable responses when asked about their mental health.
Tricky one.
Check PostSecret out, and come back to me, I miss you when you're gone.

OCD in the public eye

(I realise a lot of what I'm posting is related to BBC Three at the minute, but go figure, they're doing an amazing season of programs all about mental healthy stuff, what's a girl to do)
Watching the twitter trend #ExtremeOCDcamp - all about 6 young sufferers going away to America for an intensive therapy in helping battle their OCD (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder) - has been a heartwarming and encouraging experience tonight.
It seems that OCD, however well known the term may be, has long been incredibly misunderstood.
Think of how many times you've heard people saying they're 'a bit OCD' about something, and how often it's trivialised and you can see why awareness of such a disorder needs to be raised. Many people seemingly had the misconception that OCD was just liking things to be clean and tidy, when in reality the severity of the condition completely dominates the lives of those with it. From this perspective, OCD is probably one of the most commonly misunderstood mental health illnesses. Knowing people who suffer from OCD, I can say it's exhausting to constantly be performing rituals and obeying the compulsions that drive every aspect of your behaviour and utterly control your life.
Watching the guys featured on the show face their demons and slowly overcome their rituals and patterns was difficult, their frustrations and fears were so clear to see. I'm astounded by the bravery of all six of them for confronting something that is overwhelming for them, it got me quite emotional, perhaps because I can see stark similarities with the therapy I've had for my eating disorder and anxiety disorder to the treatment methods used on the programme to control compulsions, rituals and negative thoughts.
I thought that BBC Three did a brilliant job in highlighting how much OCD affects the lives of sufferers and portrayed the condition incredibly accurately and sensitively, there can be no doubt about the reality of OCD for anyone who watched this. I'm really looking forward to next week's episode. Big hugs to all those involved.
Another stigma-fighting tv programme to add to the list. Seeing the effects of awareness being raised before my eyes is always a good end to a day. Hopefully we'll get there in the end.

For more information on OCD clicky here please

Oh my...beautiful talk about Depression.

I bring you, Kevin Breel.
What a man.
It's 11 minutes, but I think you'll agree they are 11 minutes well spent.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C3yqXeLJ0Kg

More calls to Mind

The UK's leading mental health charity Mind has announced that its advice line received 50% more calls in 2012/13 than the previous year.

That's a tremendous increase, and one that reflects the hard work that charities such as Mind have put in over many years to reinforce that it's ok to ask for help.

An increasing number of people at risk of financial problems has been cited as a reason that more people are being diagnosed with depression and other mental illnesses, but with safety nets in place such as Mind and Samaritans, it's good to know we are never truly alone.

It's all in the title...'Failed by the NHS'

Continuing with BBC Three's It's a Mad World season, last night saw the broadcast of a documentary entitled 'Failed by the NHS.' The doc, presented by Jonny Benjamin, covered the stories of 7 young people affected by mental illness who felt that they had been let down or abandoned by healthcare provision.
What could have been a very effective and interesting investigation into the availability of services for those with mental illness was in all honesty a bit lacklustre. I was disappointed in many respects, firstly the majority of the hour was spent with anecdotes, presented as individual cases where the care that was inadequate. This is undoubtedly a problem, there are difficulties in accessing care across the country, but there was little perspective or context given to the true gravity of the problem. It's terrible that people were sent away from A&E feeling like their concerns weren't listened to, and that people may have ended their own lives because of feeling unsupported, but how many feel this way? How significant are these problems? How common are they? What can be done about it? In the end I feel like the documentary did nothing, I was underwhelmed.
The program consulted one doctor, Dr Ranj Singh, who was very eloquent and clearly passionate about the shortcomings in the availability of mental health care for young people. He covered the issues of falling in the gap between CAMHS and Adult Services, of extended waiting times for treatments such as CBT, of people turning up to A&E presenting with self-harm and not receiving adequate psychological assessment, of cuts to funding, of GPs misdiagnosing or misunderstanding mental health, of ineffective links between different departments and of an over-worked, under-funded and over-stretched NHS. He had the statistics: only half of those admitted to A&E with self-harm were given a psychological assessment, and just 4% of those who transitioned from CAMHS to Adult Services would describe the transition as smooth. These findings are shocking and needed further investigation. His input was what gave the hour-long documentary its substance and kick. His air-time? About 10 minutes. The rest was padding. I feel like they could have done so much more with it, and spoken to professionals about the reasons behind apparent failings and what they would do about it.
Jonny's meeting with MP and Care Minister Norman Lamb left me angry, obviously we didn't see the full extended cut (or I sure as hell hope that wasn't it) but considering the entire program had essentially concluded that budget cuts were placing a strain on the care the NHS can provide it seemed ludicrous that Lamb wasn't challenged on this. Here is this amazing chance to air the grievances you have and to put pressure on the man-in-charge to improve mental health care, you're backed up by statistics, you're filmed by a television crew, and yet nothing is made of that opportunity.

My last little nit-pick is the title. 'Failure' is such a strong word, and I don't think it was at all fair to use it. I know that people feel let down by the health care that's available. I know that there are some doctors who don't understand mental health as well as they should. I know that young people have to shout to be heard, I literally did have to shout and scream until my face went purple. I know that the gap between child and adult services is fraught and unnecessary. I know that there are excessive waiting times. I know that, unfortunately, some people have ended their lives because they've not felt like they had anyone to help. I know all of this from personal experience, and from the experience of friends. But you know what? Yes, I had to yell at a psychologist to get her to listen to what I was really saying. Yes, the transition between CAMHS and Adult care was, actually, virtually non-existent. Yes, I was misdiagnosed and mismedicated. Yes, I faced long waiting times.
In the end though, I have been saved by the NHS. The vast majority of doctors and other specialists I have met along the way were beautifully understanding and helpful. I have had access to medication, and complex treatments and therapies for free when in other countries I would have never been able to afford it. The National Health Service has got a terrible job. People get ill, and if they aren't perfectly fixed straight away then it's the doctors' fault and oh isn't the NHS failing us how dreadful how dreadful. I blame the system and behind the scenes bureaucracy for the hiccups in my treatment, and I blame the politicians for the cuts to funding. Unfortunately there will always be cases where people fall through the gaps, and where people have to wait to get treatment, but that does not mean that the NHS has failed you it means that the NHS is trying very desperately to help you but doesn't have the resources or training or money or people there to do it. The NHS cares, and understands, and is struggling along valiantly. It is not failing anyone.

Thought provoking ad campaign from Singapore Samaritans

I think what caught me about these ads, which went viral on the internet, was how simply they capture the hidden nature of mental illness, and that beneath the surface all is not what it seems. People can so easily be 'falling apart' and desperately want help but be unable/unsure how to ask for it.

The curse of returning home

A personal post

I am starting to think that I will never be free from what my brain is inflicting on me.
Being away at university obviously has its plus points. Independence, meeting new people, a fresh start, discovering new things and exploring new ideas, immersing yourself in a subject that truly interests and excites you, having fun while you're young and all that #YOLO stuff. What I'm feeling at the minute is the backlash from coming back home. It happened at Christmas and Easter, and I am fed up. Change in routine is not great for me, it shakes up everything I've settled down and calculated for myself and effectively feels like starting again every few months. The contrast in environments puts a weight on me each time I switch, and all I really want to do is shake it off entirely.
Going away with - as my mum puts it - 'eating wobbles' was never going to be a walk in the park, which is a shame, because I love walks in parks. The whole process of applying for university in the first place was marred by the state I got myself in. At one point I wasn't sure if I'd even be finishing Year 12 let alone getting A-levels and going off to uni like everyone else. I had no clue if I'd be well enough to go 2012/13 or if I'd have to wait at home and watch all my friends move on from our sleepy little town because I wasn't well enough to go, and I couldn't begin to predict what sort of grades I'd get given the stress I was putting myself under. I only considered unis that had catered facilities, as no one really trusted me to make food for myself, which meant ruling a lot of places out.
There were days away from home where I didn't eat as much as I perhaps should have, but generally it doesn't particularly cross my mind. I feel in control and able to choose my actions, not dictating my day or social situations around food and comfortable plodding along at my own pace. I feel like the best steps I've made in getting better have been as a result of being at uni. The food in college isn't always great, let's put it that way, but I eat a fair amount and spend a huge sum on biscuits, yoghurts and other snacks to keep me going.
Every time I come back home it's a massive step backwards. Because most of my family are out all day I'm usually in charge of my own food, which even though I could sort out I inexplicably don't. I don't feel hungry at home, I don't particularly have any desire to eat any food here, all my old anxieties bubble up to the surface again, eating socially becomes difficult. I'm worried that my life's going to stay in this crappy cycle of steps forwards and backwards. Like a hope-inducing, misery-inducing, emotional pendulum of disordered eating. No sooner than I feel like I've made progress is that snatched away from me. It's tiring having to go over the same old ground and problems repeatedly. To be honest I'm giving up hope where I once was optimistic and convinced of eventual success. Putting in the monumental effort to eat when I simply cannot bring myself to is proving too much of an effort to maintain day in, day out.
I really want to know that one day this will all be over.

Video of the day...Dealing with Anxiety, by Anna Akana

'Something internal controlling and dictating your life...that's a shitty way to live.'

Don't Call Me Crazy (episode 2)

So I said I wouldn't be watching this documentary again...clearly I lied. I have to admit I was gripped by the individuals' stories and the raw insight into life inside the psychiatric unit. Again I, along with many people on my twitter timeline, found some of the footage distressing and even triggering, but overall I feel the series is powerful because of the real way it shows the lives of those in the McGuiness unit.
Two of the young people we saw last week, Gill and Beth, were again featured on this episode, and seeing their stories progress was one of the best things about the program. Eating disorder sufferer Beth was still visibly struggling with food but over the course of the hour we saw her gradually progress and move to different eating plans. What I have to say from watching the show is that the food in the unit looks terrible. A lot of chips and burgers, generally most of it looked grey and incredibly unappetising, especially when food is so important to our healthiness (both physically and mentally) you'd have thought the food would be a lot better and fresher. Unfortunately the stress of eating more seemed too much for Beth, who used self-harm as a mechanism for punishing herself.
Self-harm was something we saw a lot of throughout the episode, with many on twitter saying they found such images troubling and harrowing. I would personally contest that showing as many self harm images as BBC Three did was helpful, viewers didn't need to see as many minutes of scars as we were shown. Beth commented that it was entirely normal for those within the unit to harm themselves, and that everyone had done it, despite regular room inspections and staff keeping on top of the innovative ways in which they could cause themselves harm.
Gill, the other patient featured on last week's episode, has scars right up her arm from where she has cut herself. She explained the development of her severe depression as 'everything just got on top of me and I couldn't cope.' Fortunately she was shown to cope with her condition better as she reconnected with her family, who she hadn't seen for 6 months. Gradually she was granted more freedoms and moved from the acute corridor to the general ward.
We were introduced to a new patient this week, the youngest on the ward at 14, Crystal who has seen hallucinations of people and animals for 6 years. The images she sees tell her to do things that she feels she has to obey such as not eat her food, self-harm or kill her adoptive dad. Watching Crystal interact with her visions seemed remarkably like a child playing with their imaginary friends, except with a grave underlying tone.
Christmas on the ward was very difficult to see. It felt to me as though the 8 people, Beth and Gill included, who were unable to get leave were trapped there, even though they were there for good reason. It was sad to see Beth remarking that it didn't feel like Christmas to her because of being in such a detached, lonely environment.
What we need to be reminded of is that though patients in units like this across the country are living away from their family and confronting very 'adult' situations, taking control of their lives and even considering ending their lives they are just young people, separated from family, friends and the lives they've come to know for months on end with no knowledge of their surroundings or when they'll be able to leave.
In fact, the psychiatrist reiterates this point by stating that family ties are the key relationships throughout childhood that influence everything, the way you interact with society and the relationships you build. Family are also, as in Gill and Crystal's cases, seen to be instrumental to recovery.
Whilst I still don't feel like the program will get people engaged and opening up about their own mental health in the way that it could have done had they filmed it differently I do think that Don't Call Me Crazy has provided a look into the support needed for someone to overcome a mental illness. I particularly loved seeing the get well soon cards in peoples' rooms as that's rare in cases of mental illness.
It looks like next week we'll be seeing some boys too which had been one of my grumbles with the show so far.

Video of the day...The stand up kid

I have loved this for months now

Reasons to Recover

A personal post

If you've read the little About The Girl tab, or some of my other posts, you'll know about my EDNOS diagnosis. In brief, it's an eating disorder that began from long term deep-rooted issues with food and reared its ugly head in sixth form. In contrast to the other conditions I suffer from, it's one that I strongly feel the desire to eradicate from my life. But as many of you will know, unfortunately you can't just click your fingers and be done with a condition once you decide to overcome it. It feels like it's taking forever and often I forget how far I've come. Sometimes I just want to give up entirely and this is the list of things I remind myself I want to change by leaving disordered eating behind me.

Without struggle there is no progress

• I want to know I will always be able to eat at a restaurant/at someone's house without feeling sick
• I want to be able to eat in front of anyone, and not have to revolve/organise my life (or other peoples' lives) around my eating problems
• I want to stop the panic attacks
• I dont want to be ashamed of myself, or feel that others are embarassed of me
• I want to stop wasting food due to not being able to finish it
• I'm fed up of my hair falling out and constantly feeling freezing cold
• I want to be able to have more confidence in myself and my abilities, and be more comfortable with the way I look
• I want to live the life I had planned out for myself before I got ill
• I want to be able to go out and be around people without constantly comparing myself to others and fearing being judged
• I hate feeling hungry, faint, and nauseous
• I want people to stop feeling sorry for me and worrying about me
• I want to be healthy and have more energy and motivation
• I want to break the cycle of being consumed by negative thoughts and living life in misery
• I want to have children, one day
• I want to be able to look behind me and know I conquered everything that was thrown my way
• I want to help other people

Don't call me crazy...

I realise this was a few days ago now but I've needed a couple of days to myself recently. Figured I'd do a piece on the BBC Three documentary that aired as part of their 'mental' season earlier on this week.
The show, called Don't Call Me Crazy, broadcasts the inner workings of one of the many young mental health units in the UK.
Viewers witnessed teenagers struggling with a range of issues, OCD, severe depression, anxiety, eating disorders and self harm in a very raw and real way.
I feel the show did a lot to break down negative stereotypes, such as OCD sufferer Emma explaining that the condition isn't merely liking things neat, it's a deep compulsion to do things a certain way in order to avoid severe repercussions. She also said the very poignant 'OCD doesn't define who I am' which helps to paint the image of mental illness not being a characteristic of the individual. Beth-who was in the unit for anorexia-a beautiful, bubbly girl, similarly said that people fail to understand mental health problems because they can't be seen.
It was brilliant to see the people on the program have their own identities and lives outside of the disorder, like 'normal' teenagers do. Loving college, dancing, films, messing around and dying their hair.
I'd say that the documentary, although accurate and shocking, focused too much on the outbursts and negative episodes, with very little attention paid to the treatment the guys in there received. We saw Emma enter and leave within a dramatic space of time, with no examples of treatment for her disorder. Similarly there were a lot of scenes of screaming, wall-punching, face-down-restrained teenagers, and images of young people huddled in a corner with blankets over their heads. The overall outcome was a rather bleak one.
As the program progressed the story of Beth developed and worsened. I nearly switched off having to see her struggle to eat carrots and a protein drink. The turmoil she was so clearly going through made me feel sick and fearful. Eventually she was sectioned under the mental health act, and as she wept I did too.
Unfortunately since the show aired she has faced a few spiteful people on Twitter commenting about her weight which is incredibly dismaying, but the outpouring of support for Beth in response to this was encouraging.
It was an emotional, troubling, saddening program to watch. I'm glad it was made, I'm glad people can see the horror mental health problems can cause people, and I'm in awe of the brave teenagers willing to be filmed at their most vulnerable points in their lives, but I don't think I can bear to sit through next week's episode.

Video of the day...Company magazine's 'skinny club'

You tell 'em girl. The battle between censorship and common sense comes to the fore when such silly articles are published with no accompanying warning/opposing view/real-life statistics/medical advice. I could only read half the article in question.

A tragedy worsened? Amy Winehouse and bulimia

 I've tried hard to make sure this piece is not triggering but please take care

I wouldn't ordinarily engage in speculative writing. All too often thinly evidenced articles are bounced about which essentially say someone - by this I mean a celebrity -  'looks' like they're having a breakdown, or that sources (who are in most cases very far removed from whichever individual it is) have indicated so-and-so has been eating less/drinking more/taking pills. Ultimately it amounts to damaging hearsay about a real, actual, in-possession-of-emotions, person's private life. This however I feel is different. In a piece that's all over the internet today Alex Winehouse, brother to the late Amy, has stated in his first interview since her death that his belief is that she died of bulimia. 

Amy died almost 2 years ago aged 27. I can remember finding out, through twitter, that she had been found dead and my reaction was bizarre. I was saddened, disappointed and shocked, but for some reason I wasn't surprised. I know this response wasn't unique, Amy's battle with drugs and alcohol had become public, as had her relationship, with photographs plastered in every newspaper of her apparent deterioration. With her brother's detail about her ongoing problems with eating it could be said that everyone was too quick to judge her lifestyle. She was a beautiful artist, with feeling in what she sang, and her brother's interview has only made listening to her music sadder for me. I'm noticing lyrics that I didn't before, and the meaning that could be behind them.

Alex said that despite the recording of misadventure for her death, 'what really killed her was the bulimia' because her lengthy fight with it had made her 'weaker, more susceptible.' He was recorded saying that Amy had developed the illness in her late teens alongside some of her friends, but had never herself managed to stop. The last thing I read of his interview was stressing the need to raise awareness of bulimia - a 'dark, dark issue' - which is definitely something I'd support. 

From my own experience, barely anyone has even heard of EDNOS (Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified) despite the fact that according to some statistics it accounts for more diagnoses than all other eating disorders combined.

 People hear eating disorder and assume restrictive eating, when in many cases that description doesn't fit. Although most people have basic knowledge of what bulimia is, true understanding is rare. The prolonged torment it causes is hardly ever spoken about. I've 'exhibited bulimic tendencies' within my EDNOS diagnosis before and all I'll say is they were the worst months of my life. Bulimia can, unfortunately, affect people for years, and hearing of Amy's connection to the illness has made her story all the more important to share and learn from.

Video of the day: Cameron Russell, Looks aren't everything

Video of the day. The Time You Have (In Jelly Beans)

Here is a beautiful video showing how precious every day really is, but also giving the perspective that one bad day is not the end of the world. Food for thought. Yeah bad pun I know.

Concealment culture?

I've just read this NewScientist article about the existing 'taboo' that surrounds suffering from a mental illness and revealing it to others with confidence.
Despite a wave of celebrities openly admitting and embracing their mental health problems it would seem the majority of normal every day people still fear the stigma of being 'crazy' or incompetent, and so hide their diagnosis from family, friends and colleagues. This instantly saddened me, but what affected me more was reading that almost 80% of people with depression experienced discrimination because of their condition in 2010 alone, and that a quarter of sufferers have been rejected from job positions because of their mental health.
Erm, are you freaking kidding me?? Firstly, I would just like to say that, really, if your work environment is one that couldn't possibly be accepting of any mental health that wasn't 'perfect' (and there is no such thing, don't kid yourself) then quite frankly I wouldn't want to work for you. But I can't say I'll always be able to be as picky, what if times are tough and I need that job? If you discriminated against me because of my gender, race, age, sexuality then that's a big no no, mental health is kind of....meh. Unfortunately people still seem to feel that if you're depressed/schizophrenic/anxiety-ridden/obsessive compulsive then you'll be of no use to their workplace and a drain on sickpay etc etc. I am just as competent as the next person you pluck off the street, and it riles me that one day I may feel like disclosing my mental health history on a job application isn't in my best interests.
There are two quotes I remind myself of when I'm feeling particularly aggrieved at the naff hand I was dealt by the Gods of brains. One is something my lovely GP said to me, and the other is from Bill Clinton, from whom I don't ordinarily take life guidance.

'Depression, and any mental illness really, is only a flaw in the chemical make-up of your brain, not a flaw in your character.'
'Mental illness is nothing to be ashamed of, but stigma and bias shame us all' - Bill Clinton

The piece cites Ruby Wax, who is famously outspoken about her own experiences with depression and one of my girl-crushes. She's funny, she's human, and in an amazing TEDtalk she gave last year (which you should definitely make time to watch) she said something that completely rang true with me:

I guess what got to me most was reading about the cyclical nature of mental illness. Society still has a bit of an issue accepting and understanding ill-mental health, so those who are given a diagnosis don't reveal it to others, don't want to embark on any new relationships and because of this feel more alone and excluded and more unable to reveal their condition. Equally, everyday man-on-the-street doesn't challenge his perception of 'normal' or of 'depressed' because he doesn't realise that actually his own son has depression, and so did the girlfriend he had in uni and Joe from HR at work and his great-aunt Margaret. Work places don't want depressed people in their work place, so none of their existing employees feel they can disclose they've been having a hard time recently, no potential new colleagues apply disclosing a mental health issue and the work environment remains an unhealthy one.

Time to Change and other movements like it within the UK and across the world are undoubtedly helping to change the idea of what it is to be normal and what it is to be afflicted with a mental health condition. Whilst I feel confident that the stigma is reducing and changing, I'm worried that it will never disappear entirely, and that as I grow older I'll be faced with the dilemma of choosing whether to openly reveal my history at the risk of being shunned or discriminated against or stay quiet and feel like I have to face everything shamefully alone.
Of course with the rise in employers using the internet to research potential candidates there's every chance someone is reading this right now. In which case: hi there, please give me the job!

Love these ads from Time To Change

Proving that cartoons and monsters are by far the most effective way to get a message through to the general public

Ok so let's talk about that Vice editorial...

Jumping on the bandwagon is what I do best.

Dear Vice magazine,
I know controversy is perhaps what you do best, that whipping up a storm with a risqué shoot or topic could sell more magazines and that being edgy is of the utmost importance, but you appear to have forgotten a little thing called decency.
Whilst I am sure that your fiction issue was intended to pay homage to some of the greatest writers we have ever known in a thought-provoking way, perhaps getting models to present suicide as some form of glamorous fashion statement was pushing the boat out a little too far. In fact I think your boat has sunk in a very catastrophic way judging by the fact you've removed every trace of the spread, besides your meager apology, from your website. Maybe you've realised that someone should have stopped during the brainstorming session and gone "hang on a minute, portraying 7 female writers as they're about to commit suicide might be a little bit tasteless..." Were you trying to cause outrage?
Your intentions seem honourable:

The fashion spreads in VICE magazine are always unconventional and approached with an art editorial point-of-view rather than a typical fashion photo-editorial one. Our main goal is to create artful images, with the fashion message following, rather than leading.
“Last Words” was created in this tradition and focused on the demise of a set of writers whose lives we very much wish weren’t cut tragically short, especially at their own hands.

Showcasing great writers and their famed work next to the sadness of suicide, the impact it has and the desperation faced by those who take their own lives would have been beautiful, but in fact what you did was to ignore the authors - no mention whatsoever of their work was made throughout the editorial feature, as if to say their suicides were the most significant aspects to them.
Oh what great respect to these writers you claim to admire you demonstrated by displaying one of the models sprawled on the pavement in an image taken from above, and another having slit their wrists but yet looking flawless, not a hair or pearl out of place. I particularly loved the tribute paid to Sanmao, telling the readers where to buy the tights the model was pretending to strangle herself with was touching - who wouldn't want to buy those tights after seeing such an endorsement?! Including stockists and listings of the outfits worn in these charming shots is a fantastic way to prove that you aren't concerned with fashion in the slightest, and that you had your 'art' hats on rather than your money-making ones. God, get over it, using suicide to sell a look is so in right now.
In no way am I suggesting that we shouldn't talk about and draw attention to suicide, but to do so in a way that trivialises 7 brilliant women's deaths by relating it to style is sickening. This kind of content should have been shouted down in the first instance it was suggested. I'm slightly worried for the future of journalism if no better alternatives were proposed and no one involved with this project could highlight the blindingly obvious flaws with 'sexing up' suicide. Tact is key when handling such a sensitive issue. Iris Chang, author of The Rape of Nanking, has been dead less than 9 years and left behind a 2 year old son. What right do you have to dress a model up to imitate Chang seconds before her death and name that a twisted tribute when the grief is still being felt for her loss? Would a better piece not have been to have featured models styled as these authors (there's your money) alongside thoughts detailing their contribution to the world, the importance of their work, and the tragedy of their deaths?
Your 'apology' is simply empty words to me, your hundreds of thousands of print editions are still freely available, and with the internet being what it is those images will be immortalised. Dedicating an entire issue to female creative minds was  innovative and brave. Featuring models coldly re-enacting suicides and giving the pathetic excuse that such images are honouring the authors, delivering a standard, corporate, one line apology to anyone who was offended, was unforgivably senseless and an insult to the writers, their work and all those affected by suicide.