Back to basics 

Back to basics 

Yesterday I wrote about how the last couple of months have been pretty grim. I’ve been functioning day to day, but barely, and have found myself plagued by intrusive thoughts and occasional ‘suicidal ideation’ as the shrinks would call it. Scary stuff when you’re a stay at home mum to two small children.

But, oddly, the return of such terrifying thoughts has been enough of a kick up the arse to get me to take my mental health seriously again. So today I’m going to share a few of the ways I’ve gone back to basics with self care and it seems to be (s…l…o…w…l…y) helping to lift the cloud.

  1. I visited my GP. I didn’t tell him about my suicidal thoughts. This was probably a mistake, but I didn’t feel strong enough (I’d never met him before for one thing). I have a therapist I see regularly who is aware of them, so I’m not trying to deal with them alone. Instead I talked to him about the physical symptoms I’m experiencing. My weight has plummeted leaving me with an ‘underweight’ BMI for the first time in my life, and while I do struggle to eat in a balanced way, I don’t feel the weight loss is warranted. I’ve previously had thyroid problems, which can cause mental health symptoms like anxiety. Malnutrition, more specifically certain mineral and vitamin deficiencies, can also completely mess with your mind. So I wanted to be sure that I wasn’t trying to battle my mental health alone when actually, there might be a physical cause and hopefully, solution. I’ve a blood test booked and should know more in a week or two.
  2. I let people in. When I feel really low I just want to hide. I feel ashamed of my feelings, and don’t want comforting or sympathy. But that just compounds the problem, and drives me further into my own head. So I’ve made a considered effort to accept invitations and reconnect with friends and family. Small things like a long walk and trip to the pub with my dad, a visit from my godmother, a play date with my best friend and her children. And I’ve talked about how I’m feeling, and received kind words and advice (useful or otherwise, it was well meant). And I’ve listened to how they are, and connected with something outside of myself.
  3. Planned my days. This is so important for me, especially on those days where my eldest isn’t at nursery and I’m alone with the kids all day (my partner works 12 hour shifts and leaves before the girls are up and gets home after they’re in bed). I write down a schedule for the next day each evening. I don’t have times, just an order of play. I stick it to the kitchen cupboard and me and my eldest discuss it over dinner, and I take ideas from her (would she like to do some painting? Baking? Exploring?). Then the next day I know where I am and so does she. It helps me to avoid getting stuck in a mind-trap of ‘Oh my god there’s so much to do I don’t know where to start’ which so often leads me to feel useless and overwhelmed. And avoids her being stuck in front of the TV for hours because she knows that there are other fun activities planned.
  4. Simplify my culinary expectations. As you’ll know if you’ve read my blog previously, I have a particularly shitty phobia (cibophobia) which makes cooking and eating really stressful and difficult. I know I’ve got to eat, I really want to eat, and I really enjoy cooking when I’m well. But when I’m unwell, like now, I invariably freak out while cooking and more often than not don’t end up eating what I’ve prepared. This is costly and depressing. I realised that far too often I expect too much of myself and decide that I will try to cook like I used to (complicated recipes with lots of ingredients). This leaves me wide open to being blindsided by insidious doubts. So I found a few cookery books with bare-bones recipes, using very few ingredients (sometimes as few as three!) and have been cooking exclusively from these.   It’s really made a difference and the food has been surprisingly delicious! And I’ve tried to keep my fridge full of good snacking food I can grab when I notice my blood sugar dipping.
  5. I claimed my benefits entitlements. Money is very tight. My partner works 30plus hours a week, and has just begun a higher education course in the hopes of progressing his career. I was feeling intense pressure to find work (I was made redundant just before the birth of my second daughter) although I’d no idea where I could find local work that paid enough to offset childcare costs. I was so exhausted (am exhausted) and just couldn’t imagine having the energy to work on top of everything else I’m doing (or failing to do) right now. My therapist told me straight: ‘You are ill, you shouldn’t be trying to find a job right now, you should be convalescing’. So I bit the bullet and put in a claim for ESA. Hopefully it will start coming through in a few weeks and just take a bit of the pressure off while I continue to focus on getting on a more even keel.

Just writing this post this morning has helped to remind me to keep all this up, that such simple steps have made a big difference almost overnight. I still feel like crap – but slightly more hopeful crap.

‘Putting yourself out there’ is fucking terrifying

‘Putting yourself out there’ is fucking terrifying

But unfortunately, nearly always necessary.

The time has come, my little friends, to talk of other things. Like how hard it is to find a bloody job if you have small children. No wait that’s not true – there are a number of part time jobs available in my local area. Cleaner, housekeeper, school crossing patrol, shop assistant and care worker roles regularly come up on my job search feeds. 

I would do these jobs. I have put in applications, despite feeling, deep down, that it would actually be incredibly unethical for me to take any of them. I have a Master’s degree and a fair amount of professional experience as a researcher and information specialist. Another person without those supposed professional advantages should get them, while I focus on finding something that uses my skills. Turns out the hiring managers think that too as I never even get more than the standard “Thanks, but no thanks” rejection email, so at least I don’t have to face that particular ethical quandary.

Trouble is, outside of the metropolitan bubble, no one seems to have grasped that jobs can be worked flexibly. Calls to recruitment agencies or HR departments enquiring as to whether I could apply for an interesting-sounding role alongside a request for flexible working always seem to involve an extended period of silence while the recruiter processes the words I’ve said, and carefully calculates how to phrase “No” in such a way so as not to contravene employment legislation. Sometimes they don’t manage it and just say “No” – and as it’s already taken enough of my will-power to make the call in the first place, I rarely challenge them. 

If im honest, I’m not sure I could necessarily face going back to what I used to do, or any organisation where the purpose was to line shareholder’s pockets rather than actually make the world slightly better. I’ve been thinking about potential career moves and think I’ve found the right fit – trouble is, the training will set me back tens of thousands and I have zero access to finance thanks to a well-hammered credit score. But right now, I need to be bringing in some dosh because we are barely surviving on my partner’s wage. And I don’t think I have enough friends to make investing in an aloe vera pyramid scheme worthwhile.

Today I bit the proverbial bullet and sent out some unsolicited emails to local organisations in my desired field, in the hope that someone might take pity on me and either hire me or take me on as a volunteer. Talk about nerve-wracking. I regretted sending them almost immediately, convinced that whoever received them would point and laugh at their screen, and then show their colleague who would also point and laugh, and together they would compose a mocking reply.

It’s only been two hours so we will see. But as I’m always being reminded in therapy – if you don’t ask, you don’t get. Call it a behavioural experiment.