Making Sense

I have spent a considerable amount of time in my life trying to make sense of things that don’t make any sense to me. I have concluded that very little makes any sense and that’s just the way it is. In the past I have tried to find my sense from the heavens above, the ground below and the people around. I have also tried to find sense within myself but then realised that I was simply internalizing all of the unhealthy things I was inclined to feel and that in turn didn’t help either. Making sense of things can be and is a very difficult thing to do and making sense of things on our own isn’t always beneficial to us achieving the very best we can.

 I am living alone for the first time in my life and so far I’m finding it to be a cathartic experience. I am enjoying putting things in their rightful place and mooching about doing things in my own time. I am very much at a ‘what next’ place in my life. I quite honestly don’t know what to do next; I’ve told myself that I’m staying in Spain until June of 2016. (My phone contract runs out then and I’m quite simply not paying Yoigo a small fortune like I did with Vodafone before I upped sticks and moved to España.) I entertained thoughts in the summertime of returning to England after this year is out. I quite like England I thought to myself… but I quite like Spain as well and I reckon I’d also quite like Japan. I’ve often wondered about doing a PGCE and working as a teacher either secondary or primary, I’ve also considered doing a Master’s in some form of creative writing which could enable me to go after the career I’ve always wanted. I’d have to do these things in England and England is the place of breakdowns and bad weather but then on the other hand it is also the place of the forever love of my family and my beloved City of Liverpool. I can walk around Liverpool and know exactly who works in that shop and the best place to find the very best tights. I know which supermarket sells my favourite type of bread and I know that there is a welcoming aunty to be found around every corner and also in the skies above. My beach stretches along the coast of Crosby and the Sainsbury’s clock in the town centre has been broken since I was 9 years old, these are both things which are both familiar and comforting to me. My dad can be found pottering around our back garden and Specky Dave can be found spouting his adorable nonsense in Stamps Bar & Bistro. When I go home I am surrounded by people who say ‘heyyyyyy Helen! When did you get back?’ and when I get back I feel very safe and sound, like I am in the place I am supposed to be in. Bold Street, Wood Street, Lord Street, they run through my veins like I used to run through their streets as a teenager. Primark too, a place where I’m guaranteed to find familiar faces and then there’s the docks carrying their memories of times long gone and best forgotten. You can guarantee that a memory will flash up somewhere wherever I am in Liverpool and when you have a brain that has largely organised itself on how best to self protect and keep away harm this can be a little alarming. Nevertheless, it’s still home and home it will always be, despite the rain and the cold.

 My current thing that I’m trying to make sense of is making sense of where my home actually is. I’ve been listening to Blood Brothers and other Scouse accenty things lately. The voices are very soothing and they remind me of everything I have always known. They also remind me that everything I know is beginning to change and I am becoming more accustomed to somewhere else and somewhere else’s customs. But what about my own customs? What’s happened to them? Will they stay with me or will they go somewhere else? Am I am expatriate now or just a Briton living abroad? I daresay these things will become more clear as time goes on but today I can’t help but wonder. Who am I and where should I be?

Clearing The Slate

  Starting again is something everyone likes to do sometimes. I know I like a fresh start every now and again. A fresh start can be a change of e-mail address, a new phone number, a house move or emigration. Sometimes a new start is the end of a relationship or the beginning of a new one or perhaps a new job. Fresh starts are the chance to clear the slate and start anew. I like to think of them as giving ourselves a second chance to correct past mistakes and improve on our futures.

 

  Four years ago I ended a relationship with a steady and dependable man in favour of a less steady and dependable life. I didn’t like the way my life was going and I didn’t think that the relationship suited me very well, so off I wandered into pastures new. I really didn’t have the first idea about what was to befall me in these new pastures. I have endured 4 years of tumultuous emotions which only seem to have truly settled in recent weeks. I developed coping mechanisms borne out of negative happenings and as a result the years which followed my break up have not gone according to plan, looking back I don’t really know how I managed to have any sort of life at all. I have gotten far too used to anticipating the worst in myself, others and situations. I have spent the best part of 4 years devoid of hope and optimism, haunted by the ghosts of the past and unable to see the lights illuminating the paths of the present.

 

  Everything reached a sudden and dramatic halt on December 30^th when I found myself feeling like I couldn’t take another minute. I made the decision to go to the hospital and visit the mental health crisis team; I firmly believe that this service saved my life. Had I not had them to go to I really don’t know what would have happened. I appreciate that this is a strong statement and may alarm some people who care for me but I urge you not to be upset. I fully acknowledge that it is hard to stomach and causes upset but if people with my problems don’t come forward and talk about them then you can guarantee that someone, somewhere else will pay for our silence and I can’t have that so I have decided to be vocal about my depression and the impact it has had on me.

 

  So there I was; feeling like I was going slightly mad in floods of tears in a busy NHS waiting room the night before New Year’s Eve 2013. I was prescribed some medication which I take every day and I have also been completing an online Cognitive Behavioural Therapy course (CBT). This new fangled CBT has been making more of a difference to my thought patterns than I ever believed possible and its results are visible to everyone. I seem to have broken out of my negative cycle and I am now able to talk to others rather than shy away, I like being in social situations rather than sitting there praying for them to be over and the anxiety which plagued me has begun to ebb away into a state of nothingness leaving a rainbow glowing in colour in its wake. I didn’t believe a state of mind like this was a long term possibility for me and it is a bigger relief than anyone could ever imagine. I’ve discovered support in people new to my life and support in those who are long term fixtures but live far away. I’ve found support in myself and a belief that I can sustain my new frame of mind for an extended period of time beyond the foreseeable future. It’s just a bloody miracle and I’m grateful for it every day.

 

  I’ve got good people around me and a good life ahead of me. I’m learning to live in the moment and worry less about the past and the future. It is now apparent to me that the past has been and gone and the effect it had and was echoed through my thinking has lost its power and control over the present day me. In the simplest of terms… I have cleared the slate and moved on, both mentally and physically. The demons of the past have moved aside and let the magical entities of the present and the future guide the way forward through the miracle of life.

Jam buttie vs Victoria Sponge - It's the little things that count.

 I have found that in life we often spend a lot of time making time for the big things as we focus on holidays, promotions, new cars and so on and so forth whilst the little things fall aside in significance. It has come to my attention that this is not a good idea because the little things are in actual fact the bread and butter of our lives. The little things get us through whilst we wait for the big things to make their cumbersome way around the corer. The little things are the sprightly moments which make up our days and I don’t think that we pay them enough attention.

  Case in point: mugs. I don’t know about you but I drink a fair amount of tea and coffee. I like to have a couple of nice mugs so that this very regular experience is never a sub standard one. Tea or coffee drunk out of a nice mug makes this every day particular somewhat better and upgrades the level of the experience. The same can be said for meal times; why have a substandard meal when the inclusion of Dill on your eggs can improve it and make you feel like you’ve had a little treat?

  I came to this conclusion a few years ago when I was overcoming the effects of a very unpleasant depressive episode. I had been in crisis mode for a little while and I had stopped enjoying anything and was living mostly on toast and wine. It wasn’t great really and nothing had much joy in it. As the depressive episode eased away and I started to eat properly again, I developed a great amount of interest in cooking and using food to get myself back to good health. It was while I was doing this that I became aware of my enjoyment in making a cup of tea, using nice bath time products and ironing my clothes for work. While I was undertaking my on stage role in my depressive episode I had forgotten that actual living exists, I had simply been existing and doing the absolute minimum to get me through each day. I started to return to some semblance of normality and I began to enjoy myself, daily life didn’t feel like a monotonous road to nowhere anymore. I realised that I liked doing the food shopping, I liked running out for a pint of milk, I liked waiting for a bus, and I enjoyed opening the curtains in the morning and then closing them at night. This curtain ritual meant the start and end of days I was not desperate to be over, I could actually find them pleasant and this was a new feeling to me. Life was normal and for the first time in my life I was content with living a normal, every day life. I was going to university and I had my part time weekend job, for a time things were very steady and I had a nice and regular flow to my life.

  I have made it clear that I have depression and sometimes ‘episodes’ occur and it all becomes quite dramatic until it becomes intolerable and I have to do something about it. I have found that living for the little things helps to keep these episodes at bay. I spend my time looking forward to the things I know will happen and I can count on them. Big things will come along as they always do and when they come along they are lovely, but life is not a Victoria Sponge. Life is bread and butter and the little things are the jam which makes the whole thing that little bit sweeter. I think we should all aim to have lovely jam so that when the Victoria Sponge has been eaten and only the crumbs are left we still have our jam buttie to fall back on for comfort until the next big cake makes its way around the corner.

Our Sweet

  Eight Christmas Nights ago, I walked into my aunty's house and my grandparents were grieving past themselves. They'd had to go through the worst year of their lives and were left reeling after losing two sons separately, in 2005. It was a horrible time and Christmas Night 2005 reflected the sadness everyone had felt all year. Gradually things began to improve and Christmasses since have been happier, Christmas lights crept back up the trees and eventually returned to my Nana and Granddad's faces.

 Christmas can be a happy time or a sad time and my family has had its share of both. This year is joyful; food aplenty, heating switched on, thoughtful presents exchanged and traditions observed. I enjoy that about Christmas, each year follows the same timetable and it's a comfort to me, something to enjoy and look forward to again as Christmas Eve becomes Christmas Day and then Christmas Day becomes Boxing Day. 365 days later we'll be doing the same things and reminiscing about the Christmasses gone before... which bring me back to Christmas Day 2005.

 I understand that we can't all pick ourselves back up and not everyone is blessed with my Nana's happy and cheerful disposition but I'm so glad that I have been able to watch her and learn from her as the years have gone by. My nana never says no, her heart is always open and she will try her best at anything once. My Nana lights up rooms and she is quite honestly the spirit of Christmas all year round. This woman doesn't need December to give and she won't stop when January comes round. I can guarantee that in February she'll still be demanding that her guests sit on the comfortable seats when they visit. Of course, she doesn't do these things alone, she has a partner in life and together they give love to each other and their children, sons and daughter in law and grandchildren each and every day.

 I won't go on for too much longer. My point is that we don't have to be taken over by Christmas spirit to do something nice or let go and try something new. I've been lucky, I've had excellent examples of love and compassion for my whole life and the examples haven't gone unnoticed. We don't need to feel festive to feel kind and we don't need to be eating and spending to excess to realise that others are less fortunate. If I were to have one New Years resolution, it would be to learn from the examples I have been shown and use them as a code for living a better and more fulfilling life.

 I wish you all a lovely Christmas week and a very happy New Year.

Not Off Bypass Yet

 Living with depression is often an unbearable activity on a bad day. The person who lives with depression must devise a list of coping mechanisms and this list must be abided by because if it is not abided by then the chances of things becoming unpleasant are high.

My list includes exercise, healthy food and a job I can engross myself in. Under no circumstances am I allowed to go anywhere near a man, this is an important one. I can't be put in a position where I am vulnerable and this is something I've spent the last year or so coming to terms with.

 The day I realised that I am too damaged to be anyone's girlfriend was a sad one for me. The reason for this reluctance is down to the equilibrium I hold so dear to my heart. I was unable to see a light for a long time, normal life was too hard for me to contemplate and I had to begin all over again emotionally. I learned to enjoy the simple things first and opted to enjoy making tea, watching TV and going for the bus. Time moved on and I started to enjoy seeing friends and cooking. I was feeling brilliant until NYE 2010 and I took my eye away from the light which was getting brighter by the day. It was an epic mistake because when I looked back again the light had gone out and it months and months to get my eyes strong enough to be able to look at it. Since I became able to see the light again, keeping my eyes focussed on it has become my priority and the sheer fear about what might happen if I let anything stand between me and the light is too great a caution for me to consider anything else.

 I very much hope that this particular anxiety will ease one day and I will be able to walk slowly into the arms of someone who might be able to give me the space I need to think straight and the interest in getting to know someone with more issues than The Independent. Life can be both beautiful and sad at the same time and for those of us who live each day in 2 different frames of mind this is often true at Christmas time.

 Christmas is my favourite season of the year. I love the lights, the events, the decorations and general merriment. However, Christmas is also a time when we remember what we were doing the year before and this can be sobering. I have come a long way in the year just passed. New job, new friends and a healthier lifestyle have all had a positive impact on me but the depression lingers on, reminding me of times gone by and never letting me forget that should Mr Right come along I am likely to find it impossible to accept that he is Mr Right and probably wouldn't let him rescue me even if he wanted to.

  I have become far too self sufficient for my own good, I fell off the horse almost 2 years ago and now I won't get back on. I don't feel negative, I feel as though I have achieved a lot in a short space of time and like I should be proud of it. I hope to be able to one day have emotions as strong as my belief in my own capabilities as far as work and health go. At the time of writing I am still a little bruised and the depression and anxiety I have always felt doesn't help. In basic terms I am unwilling to leave my comfort zone. It isn't easy to write this and the thought of posting it is daunting but if it reaches someone else in some far flung corner of the world then I'd like you to know that you're not the only one who's frightened of ending up right back where you started when you took your hand away from theirs, put it in your pocket and walked away . People like us have had our hearts taken away and put into storage while we wait to feel strong enough to make them beat again on our own; we won't stay on bypass forever but we can't run before we walk either. We need to give ourselves time, be patient and keep on enjoying making tea and walking for the bus until our heart's beat independently again.

The Kids

I am from a large family. My mother is one of seven siblings and whilst my immediate family is made up of my mother, father and sister there are many more faces which make up the fabric of my background. My childhood was made up of many different cousins; I have loads on sides both maternal and paternal. I won't go into the names of everyone but they each have a special place for individual reasons. My generation was split almost into two generations for many years because there are the older cousins and then 5 years after my little sister was born a new face arrived. When he was born in February 1994 I was almost 7 so I was young but I soon realised what a special little thing had arrived, anther special little thing arrived in the April of the same year and as if we weren't blessed enough a third special little thing turned up in June 1996.
  This trio became known as The Kids and whenever we went anywhere en masse, the location of The Kids was always a fact known by everyone. This was especially important in places like London where someone could easily have wandered off with one of my special children and that wasn't really something I was willing to put up with so I became very interested in minding The Kids. We were all in love with The Kids because they provided a much needed escape from the harsh realities of life. The 3rd one is the only girl and she became the apple of my eye, she saw everything through a certain shade of pink and everything in her childhood garden was rosy.
  As I grew up I began to realise that keeping the balance in my head would be a struggle but in The Kids I found an escape route. They had no idea that I was struggling and they continued to grow and develop, oblivious of my internal demands. I was happy to join them in their worlds of fantasy and magic, they made me feel like a normal person when I was with them. I could happily help them learn and discover and as the older cousin I was also able to help with the business of keeping them safe. They were the best source of equilibrium I could find for a long time but what did they go and do? Well they grew up didn't they.
  These days The Kids are 19, 19 and 17. I think that the middle one has impressed me the most, he moved around a lot and so had the potential to stray from his familial ties but he didn't and has chosen to maintain his links with us of his own accord. He's in Afghanistan, serving with the British army now and he's great. He's loyal, he's sweet and he appreciates the people in his life. The oldest one is nothing short of fabulous; he's what you might call a Good All Rounder with a seemingly endless capacity to impress. And the girl? Well she's still finding her way in her own unique slightly alternative looking style as she comes to the end of her schooling and keeps a sideline as a talented artist at the same time.
  They're not kids anymore and their boundless innocence doesn't rescue me from a world of hurt now either. They're moving forward into full blown adulthood with each step just like their colleagues, school mates and friends. It is astonishing to think that they're coming into their own at the same time as I am but there you have it, that's the situation. I've come into full bloom a little late in life but I'm pleased I'm able to share my colourful space with these three people as they learn more about the world around them and the future before them.
  As I said, they're not kids anymore and they don't always like being called The Kids which is a term attributed to them and still used throughout the family and I understand their frustration... however when I call them The Kids, I am reminded of how liberating it can be to simply forget everything that has gone before, clear the slate and view the world through the delighted mind of a child. These days I see them for the young adults that they are but I'll never forget how they helped me through my confusing adolescence and always look on them with the admiration and nostalgia that they deserve.

Lad's Night Out

  This year I welcomed in the beginning of the festive season whilst out and about in Sevilla with a group of men I have the pleasure of being able to call my friends. I've been on plenty of lad's nights in my time so it wasn't a big novelty. I remember one Girl's Night Out back home in Liverpool that led to the male counterparts of our group feeling the need to throw their own night out. It turned into a competition to see which gender could enjoy themselves the most. I recall it being called Cheeky Cheeky Night and each team had its own uniform, such as was the eventual big deal nature of the thing. That was a spectacular night... but I am digressing, back to the evening just gone.
  I don't drink alcohol. It's a fairly new thing, 6 weeks today in fact and I've found that my nights have significantly changed since I gave up intoxicating myself. Emphasis on the toxic; for me drink is simply toxic. I go from being a level headed young woman with a sensible head on my shoulders to a clown in about 4 vodkas. I wake up in the morning with no idea what I've been doing the night before but there are often vague recollections of truly cringe worthy conversations and every now and again things can go too far and have a domino effect on the sober moments which follow. In the end I decided that enough was enough and I stopped drinking entirely. Alcohol also makes me very depressed and given that this is a feeling which I am prone to really quite naturally it is ridiculous for me to exacerbate the problem. So I entered the world of the sober woman's night out 6 weeks ago and so far I really do like it. My head is clear, my clothes fit better and I have a lot more money. I choose to spend the extra money on a fairly expensive gym membership because it has become my new way to relieve the stress brought about by living a normal yet very lovely life in a very lovely country. It was most pleasant to enjoy a night out with friends in a totally sober state. I have woken up able to giggle about the events which passed, had I been drinking I would no doubt have become Ronalda McDonalda the Clown and been banned from future events. Giving up drinking has been life changing and I can't recommend it to myself strongly enough. Once you get past the initial 'I'm sober and you're not' feeling you learn to accept that being sober is pretty much always better than being drunk. The drinking culture in Britain and Ireland is a strong one and I don't want to dismiss it as being stupid because it's not. I have had some of the happiest moments of my life sitting in lovely pubs and bars with friends whilst we put the world to rights. I've just had to start relying on myself to do the talking because when I let the alcohol do it for me the happy moment is a lot more likely to turn disastrous.
 Now for some reflection, I always like reflection on December 1st. Six years ago, I was standing in front of the Christmas Tree that the businesses in my town provide the lights for, sharing a kiss with the man who was to become my boyfriend for the next two and a half years. It was the second kiss, the first had just taken place in a basement bar, so there we have it six years ago today I was a 20 year old with a couple of mental years coming up. The roses in the garden of myself and said boyfriend didn't stay in bloom for all that long and I should have walked away sooner but nevertheless he was an important figure and I will always wish him the very best of everything. Two years ago I was about to welcome in an unexpectedly lovely Christmas but the year to come would be hard and I would struggle to get through it in one piece. One year ago I was in Greece and exceptionally isolated but no doubt delighted that I would be going home soon. I am 100% into the whole idea of home being magical and I love that there are millions of magical places because there are billions of people with millions of home towns and many consider their home to be magical. The result is an enchanted world with adventure and intrigue around every corner.
  This year, I am at a weight I like, I have a family which lights the way for me each day, friends who have stood by me through thick and thin (literally) as well as depressive episodes and times when I've been bordering on alcoholism. I am eternally grateful to have been allowed to become the person I am today and for someone who managed to spend an extraordinarily long time experiencing non stop self loathing my present state of mind is something of a turnaround. As you can see, I have experienced dark days and there was a time when I genuinely thought that I would never be happy so bad was the state of the mechanics of my mind.
  I'm not going on for no reason at all, this ramble does have a point and it is a motivational one. The point is that if you are out there and you feel like there is no way out then you must start knocking a hole through the wall yourself. You are in charge of your life, you are in charge of your mind and those two things are a fact. Don't let depression or other upsets like low self esteem and low self confidence hold you back. Try not to allow shadowed figures from the past the ability to hold onto you and stop you moving into the future with your head held high. Yes, yes I know that depression is there living alongside you and it always will be but the tools for dealing with it are right there in your own head. Find them, use them and live. You don't have to just exist, you can have a vibrant and special life once you understand that the hero you're waiting for to whisk you off into the sunset for a happy every after is you and you'll have to draw the sunset if you ever want to see it for yourself. Heart wrenching, frightening and intimidating but you'll be glad you put up a fight when you're gently surprised to see a healthy and forgiving face looking back at you in the mirror during a Lad's Night Out. Trust me, you're worth it.