On Not Writing

The Wonderspouse is a writer. Although he doesn’t (yet) make enough money from writing to keep me in the style to which I’m sure I could become accustomed, and therefore also has a day job, he does call himself a writer.

As a result of his writing activities, I often find myself surrounded by writers, both in the flesh and on the internet. I am quite often asked what sort of thing I write, and I explain that I’m not a writer, I’m a musician and maths student, and, like the Wonderspouse, I make ends meet with a succession of random day jobs.

The Wonderspouse then points out that I’m the one with a commercially published book, that I’ve also been known to produce a pome from time to time, that I write daily on my blipfoto journal and that I have a blog (er, this one!). However, as I point out, I haven’t actually MADE UP any writing since I did my O-levels at the age of 15!

Even then, I was not expected to succeed with words. My mother promised me a reward for my O-levels if I got 6 A grades out of the 8 subjects I was taking – it was taken as read that I wouldn’t get top grades for either English Language or English Literature. I’m still convinced that the fact I did actually get A grades for those subjects was the result of a mix-up at the exam board!

Then I went into science and, ultimately, music. Of course, I did a lot of writing as part of my degree, but all of it factual, with zillions of references, and in the particular style that academic writing demands. I wrote essays about Mendelssohn, Scriabin and so on, and edited a 60,000 word monograph by Hans Keller for my special project, but I didn’t actually create anything new.

I’m not even a particularly well-read sort of person where literature is concerned. I read a lot of books and I frequently have around ten different ones on the go at the same time, but many of them are factual books – I love reading about history, science, warfare and so on. I also read a lot of biographies, and when I do stray into fiction it’s usually the sort of “throwaway” detective novel that most people would buy at an airport and leave in the hotel room at the end of the holiday.

In short, I am not a writer, I have almost no background in literature, and I haven’t made up a story for very very many years. So, you ask, what’s this blog post actually about then?

It’s about a thing called NaNoWriMo, which I saw on twitter hashtags quite a lot around this time last year and which has started appearing again. At first I assumed it was about something rather small, and for a long time I thought the “No” bit was short for November. It always seemed to be something that writers were interested in, and, since I’m not a writer, I always ignored it.

This year things have changed. I finally asked the Wonderspouse what on earth the whole business was about and he explained patiently to me what it was. It actually stands for National Novel Writing Month and the idea is that those taking part, er, write a novel in a month! Kind of obvious when you think about it!

Coincidentally, the start of this year’s NaNoWriMo coincides with the start of my own new beginning. I left my last random day job a few months ago and am currently “between jobs” while completing my recovery from my last major episode of depression. I’m not quite up to going back to work yet, but I’m no longer so ill that all I can do is lie on the sofa and sleep.

So it’s time I started doing some more constructive things again. Obviously, I am returning to daily viola practice as well as playing the piano and flumpophone on a regular basis. I’ve also registered for next year’s Open University maths courses and today I shall do my first serious session of study since I got ill. There are also jobs to be done round the house and I’m also going back to serious exercise and trying to eat less food too. If I can’t manage these things at home, there’s no way I’ll have the stamina to survive a day in the workplace when I find a new job.

But on top of returning to the old things, it’s rather nice to have something shiny and new. So I’m going to give this NaNoWriMo a go! I believe the goal is to produce a 50,000 word novel by the end of November – the concept of having to write MORE words feels rather alien to me since all the writing I’ve done in my adult life has been about saying what I want to say in FEWER words. Of course, we all know that to produce a 50,000 word book we should write three times that many and then keep every third word (or something like that)! If we took that instruction literally some very strange books could be created – unless the first draft was EXTREMELY clever!

Anyway, it’s time to start. I can’t imagine what I write will be any good whatsoever, but it gives me a challenge and maybe it’ll be a bit of fun along the way. All my ideas so far are extremely mundane or extremely crazy. I suspect the end result will be rather bizarre! However, the Wonderspouse tells me it doesn’t matter since it’s fiction it doesn’t have to be true and I don’t have to reference everything I write! Furthermore, since I’m not actually a writer, and am not really “writing”, just giving a new project a go, there shouldn’t be any pressure!

If you’re also attempting to write a novel this month, then do feel free to “buddy” me on the NaNoWriMo site – since I don’t have enough imagination to think of another username, I’m known as ViolaMaths on there too!

Off we go!

On Many Thanks

Just when it seemed as if this blog had been abandoned completely, I’M BACK! I hope the shock of it isn’t too much for anybody!

I’ve just had a read through my blog posts from earlier this year, and the comments that have been made, and I’m struck by how much things have moved on since I wrote those posts. I thought I might fill you in, briefly, on the developments in my life since the beginning of the year.

After my failed attempt to return to work in March (see last post), it became obvious how ill I’d become. I am now under the care of my GP, a good Psychiatrist and Community Psychiatric Nurse (CPN), and, recently, an exercise trainer at the local gym. Interestingly, when I opened the bag containing my gym kit last week, a quick look at receipts confirmed that I had not been to the gym since last March, which was about the time I started to get ill again.

At the beginning of February this year I was as low as I’ve been for around 8 years, almost suicidally low. In fact, in the last few weeks, the Wonderspouse and I have observed that I seem to have a major depressive episode about once every 4 years – the pattern is startlingly accurate!

This episode has, as has always happened previously, cost me my job. I simply cannot return to work within any reasonable time-frame, and the pressure of having to do so has been making me much worse. Therefore, I am to embark upon a new phase of life with regards to employment. I don’t yet know what I shall do – maybe I’ll blog about it as the process unfolds! In the meantime, if you know of anyone who would pay me a handsome wage to, say, taste chocolate, then do let me know! ;-)

However, I am, eventually, fighting back against the depression! I am determined that I will not let it beat me. I am once again on medication (Venlafaxine and Quetiapine, if you’re interested in that kind of thing), but have realised that the medication can only be part of the story. I’m also working with my CPN on strategies to prevent me getting ill again (and learning that fighting against what the medics tell me is detrimental to me, so, no matter how much I feel that the exercises I have to do are “silly” I should do them and take them seriously) and I’ve started gym sessions (referred at a cut-price by my GP).

I’m also starting to build my own REAL life again from the ground upwards. I am practicing my viola again – although it will take a while to get back to a reasonable standard, I’ll keep going. I’ve also recently bought a tuba (or flumpophone as I prefer to call him) and have started practicing that too, which is giving me great pleasure. I’ve had to defer the exam from last year’s maths course again, which means I shall take it in October this year, and I’ve also had to negotiate long long extensions to the first assignments of this year’s course. It’s still not clear whether I shall be able to meet those deadlines or whether I shall have to withdraw from the course this year and reregister again next year, but I’ll try to complete the work this year if I can.

Furthermore, I’m going to concerts again, managing to keep up with the housework a bit better, painting my fingernails again, and finally starting to work my way through jobs lists that have been sitting around for months. I’m also, slowly, getting back to reading books – I was completely unable to read when I was ill, and am gradually building up, a few pages at a time while my ability to concentrate increases and the “noise” in my head slowly subsides. This afternoon I’ve also opened my knitting bag and started to knit a few rows, and I’ve also sorted out all my model-making things and origami books in my study, so that I can start doing some creative enjoyable craft-type things too.

My online life has also changed. With the increase in viola practice, flumpophone practice, maths, exercise, housework and so on, has come a decrease in the amount of time available to sit chatting on twitter, commenting on every single blipfoto, or playing games on facebook. Last autumn, the internet world WAS my world, but I’ve had to alter that to protect my mental health – in particular, the fact that sitting on the internet for hours on end involves sitting still at a desk means that I cannot afford to do too much of it – exercise is so crucial in successful treatment of depression.

Exercise will also help me to combat the dopey feelings and headaches caused by the medication and to lose the 2 stone that I’ve put on in the last few months. I’ve had to buy bigger trousers again and I have lost quite a bit of fitness. In order to remedy those things I need to work hard – walking outside, doing yoga, going to the gym, hopefully going swimming again, and also stopping the snacks that have become a habitual part of life as well as simply eating smaller portions again.

So, that about brings you up to date. Rather surprisingly, I HAVE managed to keep posting a picture on blipfoto each day (my CPN told me she considers this a considerable achievement) and the Ears blog is up-to-date although a bit thin on the ground – sorting out my listening is still “in progress”, as is much of my life.

One of the other reasons I wanted to write this post is to say “Thank You”. Reading the comments on my previous posts will give you just a flavour of the support I’ve received. With just a very few exceptions, people here and on twitter, facebook and blipfoto have been fabulous and wonderfully supportive. Thank you, all of you.

I’ve also received many messages of support, and empathy from people. I’m so sorry I haven’t yet responded to these messages – I fully intend to do so, although it may take a little while. I have over 200 messages on my e-mails and in my facebook inbox that need attention – and these are 200 proper messages since I delete spam and file general messages as I go along. I’m afraid I’ve also neglected commenting on blogs shamefully, and not yet formally acknowledged 2 people who gave me “beautiful blogger” awards on their own blogs (you are not forgotten, I am very grateful, I shall get there).

So, thank you everyone for your support. I really do appreciate it. Also, to all of you who have written to me describing depressive symptoms of your own - thank you for trusting me with your personal stories. As soon as I have the strength I shall try to help you all in whatever way I can. One of the reasons I continue to blog about my illness is in the hope that it will help others to feel slightly less alone.

I’d also like to thank the Wonderspouse. He has continued to work full-time, to write, to organize gigs and readings, to care for the cats, and to keep the house functioning, all while looking after me – accompanying me to psychiatrist appointments and so on. He’s had to cope with tears, tantrums, endless loops of self-pity and self-hatred from me and the constant fear that he’d get home from work and find I’d simply given up. I’m surprised he’s still standing. The man is a marvel.

Anyway, I’ll stop here for now. The old “me” is returning gradually, and I hope, eventually, that I’ll be up to blogging about slightly more interesting things than my mental health as I build a new, and hopefully, exciting life. Maybe this blog will follow that journey! You’re invited along if you want to come!

And thank you again, everyone who has supported me.

On Willpower Failure

The above picture was going to be used for today’s blipfoto post and was going to be given the title “Willpower Failure”, since I don’t use the “On…” format on blipfoto.

However, as usual, I took more than one possible blipfoto, and in today’s “battle to be the blip”, the coffee and muffin picture lost out to the one that I eventually posted here.

The coffee and muffin picture didn’t give up without a fight though, and nagged me to post it SOMEWHERE on the internet and to tell its little story to anyone who might care to read it. Furthermore, my completionist-type OCDishness won’t allow me to miss a month out of posting something on this blog because the archive would look all wrong!

So here’s a story of how my willpower (which I generally regard as fairly strong) crumbled into nothingness this morning. This picture was taken at 8 in the morning. What on EARTH was I doing drinking a latte and eating a triple chocolate muffin at 8 in the morning? How did I come to be in a Costa Coffee when I should have been at work?

It started to go wrong around 3.42 a.m. I think. Since I’ve been taking quetiapine I haven’t been very insomniac, but I did stir early this morning, a sure sign that things were not quite right. But, nevertheless, I got up at the normal time (with difficulty, but what’s new?), got dressed, and got in the car to go to work.

However, by the time I was a few miles down the road it was evident that today was going to be a struggle. By the time we reached the outskirts of town I was praying that the traffic jam would grind to a halt and we could just stay in the car for ever. I managed to get to the place where I usually drop the Wonderspouse off for work and parked up. It was obvious I wasn’t going to make it to the office – the sense of panic was just overwhelming.

So, I turned the other way at the end of the road and headed for home.

There was one thing nagging me, something I’d been planning to do? Oh yes, I had run out of cherry compote and had been intending to go home via Waitrose (the only known source of this delicacy) on the way home.

I thought I might as well go anyway, that way the petrol I’d spent driving to work and then not actually going wouldn’t be totally wasted.

Of course, when I got there, it wasn’t open yet – why would it be at that time of the morning?

It was too cold to walk – at this time of year I have to plan walks outside and put oil on my legs before I go otherwise my hopelessly cold-sensitive skin chaps and cracks and ends up terribly painful.

But Costa was open.

So, even though I’m supposed to be trying to lose the weight that I’m rapidly putting on, I went inside and bought my usual tipple of medium latte and triple chocolate muffin. At 8 o’clock in the morning.

I had failed to get to work. I had failed to stay off the chocolate cake (one of my particular weaknesses in life). Willpower had gone down the drain.

Then I went on a bizarre shopping spree in Waitrose. I got half way round and realised the basket was now too heavy, so then tried to go out of the “in” doors to get a trolley. They didn’t work. So then I abandoned my basket, went out of the “out” doors, collected a trolley, then transferred the stuff from the basket, which I’d just left in the shop on the floor.

I tweeted the Wonderspouse for a shopping list, not all of which I succeeded in finding. I bought a large bread thing because it looked fun. I sniffed lots of the smellies and bought yet another sort of deodorant that may or may not make me itch. I bought parsnips because they “looked nice”. I nearly bought dog food, then remembered we don’t have a dog. I must have been round the shop 20 times (the search for milk alone took some time – my friend Linda guiding me towards it by tweet) before I eventually managed to summon up the courage to queue at the checkout to pay.

Then I came home.

The rest of the day has been a write-off too. I have failed to be a friend by not even noticing something that I should have done about one of my friends, then sent a semi-hysterical e-mail in an unsuccessful attempt to compensate. I refreshed tweetie on the iPhone so much that it locked me out for using up my API or whatever it is. I feel edgy, stressed, and unable to concentrate.

I have failed to do any jobs on my list.

Willpower has run out.

On the plus side, I did a nice blip and I ate real food for lunch – I ripped the end off the large bread thing and dipped it in luxury houmous, then had dates and a cup of tea for pudding, so that’s not too bad.

The Wonderspouse has arrived home and started preparing parsnip soup with the parsnips, which he says will go very well with some more of the large bread thing.

He’s also said he still loves me even though I am rapidly gaining weight and heading towards bankruptcy if I can’t get myself back to work properly soon.

I’ve also, more by accident than design, written a blog post. Not one of the ones I had in mind, and I’ve still failed to deal with comments from the last one.

But at least the archive will look neat and tidy!

On Falling Apart

This blog post has had many titles: On Hardening My Heart, On Refusing To Quit, On Defriending And Blocking, etc etc etc. Eventually, however, I have given it the above title, because that is how I feel at the moment.

First of all, please allow me to say a huge thank you to everyone who read my last blog post, and for all the lovely comments and messages I’ve received here, on facebook and on twitter. Thank you also to everyone who is continuing to support me throughout this rather peculiar phase in my internet life (I have become more guarded than usual, and taken actions that I thought I never would in the last few days). I can only say that my real life at the moment is also equally, if not more, peculiar, and I really hope that things get sorted out soon.

I have stayed away from twitter for much longer than I intended, and have not, as I said in my last post that I would, responded to the lady who made the initial tweet. Last Saturday night, I seriously considered giving up my internet life completely, and returning to spending more time staring at the TV instead.

I wrote the above two paragraphs several days ago. I am still struggling desperately with twitter, and with facebook, and particularly with blipfoto. I shall now try to explain why. Forgive me if I don’t do a very good job. I’m not really up to it at the moment, and this blog post will probably be unedited. I owe you all some sort of explanation though.

After I wrote the previous blog post I received a message on facebook from somebody, which, in essence, said the following: my expectations of the twitterverse as a safe place are unrealistic, I have problems, I have blamed her friend (the lady who sent the first tweet/DM) for all my problems, I have referred to myself as the aggrieved party in the incident with the lady who sent the tweet when in fact that lady is mortified, she says she has sympathy with that tweet in that she likes to follow people who make her laugh or are interesting, my “friends” are not doing their best for me by providing sympathy and should instead tell me that I’m being over-demanding and that the world does not revolve around me, real friends would tell me I’m being an idiot, I would provide support for other people too if I were any kind of a friend to anyone (with the implication that I don’t – sorry friends, I apologise for being so crap and useless), being around people who are miserable is no fun and I shouldn’t be surprised if people have run out of patience with me, my blipfoto post for 4th February was “horribly nihilistic” and blipfoto was not an appropriate place to share such things because it is a site about photography, have I ever heard of CBT (something which I find horribly patronizing, given previous blog posts), she suggests I share less on the internet because I wouldn’t expect group therapy in the real world and shouldn’t expect the internet to provide me with any such help, and finally tells me “I hope you get help” and that I shouldn’t blame other people for my distress.

I immediately unfriended and blocked this lady on facebook. I also had to unfriend the original lady – not because I didn’t want to forgive her and become friends again, but because I am afraid that the lady who sent me the above message will get to me through her. I also abandoned my twitter account, set up a new, locked, account to try to keep in touch with a few friends (I’m sorry if I haven’t yet managed to contact you – I’m trying, but so short of energy), and changed my name on blipfoto.

However, none of this has helped. Things are still getting worse. I also fear that in my search for solace from all this I have done irreparable damage to a very precious and treasured friendship with a real life friend who is also very ill and unable to cope with me at the moment.

I cannot answer all the points the lady made in her message to me – I simply don’t have the energy or enough tissues to mop up the tears that writing this post is generating. I would have linked to a blog post by someone else that was made in response to an incident that occurred last week and referred to the support that the internet can be when people are in mental distress, but the person who wrote that post has had to take it down because she has had an overwhelming response to it and simply doesn’t have the time to deal with what it has generated. I try very very hard, when I have the strength, to support anyone who needs it in any way that I can. Sometimes, however, I need people to cut me a bit of slack.

First, of COURSE I have heard of CBT. For goodness sake. I am an intelligent informed woman who has read dozens of books and articles on my condition. I point you towards “On Being Bonkers” from July 2009. It is only by employing CBT techniques that I am able to get out of bed most mornings, that I am able to force breakfast into me although I feel sick, that I am able to steer the car towards work rather than back home, that I am able to keep going at all on a lot of occasions. You wouldn’t suggest to someone with a broken leg that they might like to get it set in plaster – why assume that people with depressive illness are too stupid to have researched their condition? And, for information, CBT is not available on the NHS to me, and my psychiatrist considers that I am already well-enough versed in its techniques that it wouldn’t necessarily be helpful to have more. I can’t afford to pay for it in any case.

As to the real world. Would I go into a pub and have a meltdown? Well, yes, and I have done on many many occasions. I have ended up out in public many times in a terrible state. I have left numerous restaurants and sat on the pavement outside shaking because I struggle to eat out in public when I feel scared. I have broken down in the middle of a big party of several hundred people, halting a barn dance and causing my distressed father and best friend to have to pick me up and take me out and comfort me. I have sat on the floor in Sainsbury’s crying by the Frosties. I have collapsed on the floor of a train, been violently sick, and then screamed and pulled at the (fortunately electric, rather than the old fashioned handle type) doors to try to get off. I have been lost out on the street, unable to see because the lights are too strong and the noises are too loud. I have stood and sobbed in front of a class of 11 year olds because I played a chord wrong on the piano.

On every single one of these occasions, people have been helpful and sympathetic. Even people I didn’t know. The man on the train, who helped a vile and messy me to get off at Greenwich station and made sure I was OK before he continued his day, the woman in Sainsbury’s who wanted to know if I was alright, even the class of year 7s who coped with their Head of Music disintegrating before their eyes.

As to blipfoto. At the moment I cannot even look at the site, because it makes me feel sick. I tried, when I got home from a trip away on Friday night. I looked at one friend’s blip from the day, and the top comment was from the woman who sent me that message. I logged off straight away and closed the tab on the browser. I’m sorry blip. As for my “horribly nihilistic” post, I was going to say that I was terribly sorry to have spoilt this woman’s fun, to have disturbed her comfy life and ruined her internet experience, but I’m not. What I am sorry about is the two friends who read that post and were seriously worried about me to the extent that they both e-mailed me and left numerous text messages and missed calls on my phone because they were so worried about me. I’m sorry to have put you through that. I’m sorry for my father and stepmother who read the post through my facebook wall (they are both friends of mine on there) and were extremely worried, knowing that I have tried to take my own life in the past and fearing that I’d do it again. I’m also sorry for my poor husband, who was having to cope with all this in the middle of organizing his gig.

What I have finally realised this morning though, is why that message has done me so much damage. It is agreeing with everything the illness is telling me. I have a loud voice in my head telling me that I am a bad friend, a miserable person, an idiot, a plonker, a worthless and wretched apology for a human being. I think often how much better place the world would be if I had never been born. I know that I am a failure, that I am nearly 40 years old and unable to support myself financially, unable to produce any children, unable to hold down anything other than a part-time clerical job (and even that with difficulty, and only with the extreme patience of my colleagues). These views I have of myself are, of course, only partially true and are mainly caused by the illness that pervades my mind. Ironically, these are the very feelings that I have to use CBT techniques to fight against – the “Automatic Negative Thoughts” that follow me everywhere. This woman, who is so keen that I “seriously consider CBT” has reinforced those negative thoughts a hundredfold. I am now fighting them, and trying hard to think of all the lovely things my real friends and supporters have said to me, in order to try and re-establish some sense of self-worth.

So, I have shared even more on the internet. Partly because I owe everyone an explanation, but also because I want people to UNDERSTAND. I don’t crave sympathy, but understanding. I have defriended and blocked for the first time ever, to protect myself. I do refuse to quit in my quest to talk about mental illness and the issues it raises, even if it means exposing myself to criticism. I cannot harden my heart – it’s like a jam without enough pectin, or a custard that hasn’t been heated enough – it will never harden, it just isn’t that sort of heart.

For all the strife that this whole episode has caused me, I am particularly glad of one thing. I received a message on facebook from a person who said how much my Feb 4th blip had helped her, how comforting it was to know that there was someone else who knew what it felt like to feel like that. I was also very touched by a comment I received from someone who said that even though we just looked like little tiny pictures on twitter, behind each one was a person, and those people really care. These things have stuck in my head.

The other thing I’m amazingly grateful for is the Wonderspouse. The week that all this broke he was speaking at a conference on mental illness at the Royal College of Psychiatrists – alongside Alastair Campbell, who was saying how mental health issues should not be brushed under the carpet. He had a massive audit at work. He organized a book reading / gig in London. All this while working full-time, attending my psychiatrists appointments with me, keeping up his own writing and internet work, cooking all our meals, looking after the cats, and getting up in the middle of the night to make me tea and mop up my tears. I really don’t know how he’s still standing – the man is a marvel.

As to the woman who wrote the message, I don’t know whether she will ever read this post. If she does, then I would beg her NEVER to send a message like that to anyone again. If I was giving her the benefit of the doubt, then I might, just, be able to say that she was being “well-meaning”, although the tone of her message suggests otherwise. Yes, the patronizing tone made me angry, but whatever bitterness made her write it could have cost someone who didn’t have a Wonderspouse on hand a lot more than it cost me. I wondered why the lady who sent the original tweet/DM felt the need to say that my tweets were “getting on her tits” and didn’t just unfollow me quietly. I wonder even more why this second woman felt the need to harangue me as she did. She doesn’t have to look at my blips or read my blogs. If you really want to stick to “nice pictures” and “fun” on the internet, then so be it. I cannot, and will not, brush my true self under the carpet and put on an act to entertain people online – it would be untrue to myself and my beliefs.

Furthermore, I do believe that the internet is, like real life, a place full of lovely supportive people who are generous, loving and helpful. I don’t think it’s unrealistic of me to hope that people who I do regard as friends will bear with me through the rough patches. I gladly do the same for them, helping wherever I can.

I said in “On Being a bit Bonkers” last July that I didn’t wish to make this blog about mental health issues. I still don’t, but have had to write this post by way of explanation, and maybe to work through issues that are still outstanding from the whole incident. I’m also going to take some time off the internet. Feel free to comment on this blog post if you like, although the Wonderspouse is insisting on monitoring comments before I read them. He cannot take the risk that the work being done by my GP, psychologist, psychiatrist, and himself can be further undone by anything that might hurt me. I am simply too fragile at the moment. I shall probably take at least a week off twitter and facebook, although, by the time you read this I shall have left details of how I can be contacted in both places for people who do want to get in touch and don’t have any other means. The “Ears” blog is on hold for now, although I shall continue to keep a record of what I’m listening to (not very much at the moment – I’m having to sleep a lot, and am staring at the TV quite a bit too). I’m not even thinking about blipfoto for now. It’s simply too painful.

My mind feels rather like it needs renovating at the moment, a bit like this:

I’ll be back when it’s sorted and strong enough to cope with whatever gets thrown at me and when I’ve got the rest of my life together. I just need some time and I hope that you’ll understand, and forgive me this rather frank blog post. If I had any choice in the matter I most certainly wouldn’t elect to be miserable, to feel sorry for myself, or to have such a black day as inspired my February 4th blip. To choose such a life really would be madness!