Good things come to those who...

This is the blog I was going to write a couple of days ago... Sorry it's late 😀

(TW: depression)

For the past few years, I've followed the example of a lovely friend called Diana. While I was suffering from depression, I noticed that Diana regularly posted little updates of what she'd been doing lately but instead of going into detail and rather than seeming like a Facebook brag what Diana did - and does - was post a little list. The title of the list varied, but it was most often called "Today's Five Good Things" and it was her way of seeing goodness in everything, even on a day that wouldn't necessarily strike her as particularly enjoyable.

With Diana's encouragement, I took up this mission: to find five good things at the end of every day, regardless of how badly my depression had smothered me that day. There were days that were harder than others: some days I could go on to six, seven, ten good things. Other days, I really had to force myself to think of what to add to the list, only having two or three to begin with.

Gradually I came to realise that the exercise was forcing me to appreciate smaller and smaller things in my world: being wakened by my then-toddlers was something to celebrate, even when it felt like some form of cruel and unusual punishment. Those little boys were climbing all over me, excited for what the day might bring. They needed me to guide them through the day, to take them to the places and people that made them happy. They were excited to start the day with me and I suddenly felt grateful to have two wee guys feel that way about me.

The other positive outcome of posting this near-daily list on Facebook, rather than just writing it down, was that I couldn't get away with cutting it short. Friends engaged with the project and made me complete each day's list. Sometimes that act alone - friends caring about my wellbeing - was enough to complete the list. By posting on Facebook I was being accountable for my mental health and I was making my experience public.

This last part led to the most incredible outcome of all...

Three years ago this week, I suffered a neck injury which pained me for days into weeks. I couldn't get any physio (12+ weeks wait via GP!) so I decided to go for reflexology which had helped me with other aches and pains previously. The treatment helped, but not totally. I went next for reiki, another therapy I'd had in the past. When I came out of the reiki session my neck was much better. But I suddenly felt very emotional and I cried all the way home.

I don't know what made me so upset, I'm still not convinced whether it was the treatments I'd had or just a coincidence. My psychiatrist later said that my neck pain may have been caused by stress and that fixing the neck pain unlocked the stress. It all sounds a bit hippy-dippy to me (says the person who went for holistic therapies, I know!)

Regardless of what happened, by the time I got home - all of 10 minutes' drive - my depression was crippling. It was the most I've ever felt depression like a black cloud descending over me. The sun was actually shining that day. I can still remember the light on the wall during my reiki treatment. By the time I got home and went straight to bed, I felt like the sun was mocking me. The darkness inside me was overwhelming.

For the next four and a half weeks I stayed in that bed. While my husband took the first day off work, my mum actually ended up taking the next three weeks off to look after me and to take care of my children. The fourth week was the first week of the Easter holidays so my school-teacher husband was off anyway. By this time I'd been fast-tracked for psychiatric care and I was seeing the psychiatrist weekly. I didn't think much of him but my mum thought it was maybe just my depression talking. However, when I told the psychiatrist that I couldn't see him in Week 5 as we were going to my parent's house in Ireland, he made a snide little reply about how I couldn't be that bad if I was going on holiday.

I was devastated. For almost four weeks I'd been so flattened under the weight of my depression, I'd needed 24-hour supervision and care. Suddenly I felt like an impostor - I couldn't be that bad, could I? How could I justify going on holiday when I'd been in bed for four straight weeks? I must just be making it up, or making it worse than it is. I wept when I told my mum what he'd said.

Of course, my lovely, kind, caring mother is a fearsome warrior in the face of someone upsetting her children - regardless of how old we are. She phoned to complain, she came with me to stand up to this bully, she stayed calm and collected but left no one in any doubt: you have messed with the lioness. I was promised a new psychiatrist, a new location for my appointments, more nursing help, more, more, more. And all to be given after I'd taken my holiday, which was of course entirely justified and acceptable.

Reliving that experience, even in summary, has been hard. But the good thing happened when I started to come out the other side of it - probably by late April. I posted a "note" on Facebook explaining where I'd been, having skipped social media entirely for the previous 10 weeks. I praised my mum and my husband, I thanked my dad who was a regular counsel and sympathetic ear, having had bouts of low mood throughout his life. And I was open and honest about what I'd gone through. It was the first time I'd really given an insight into the darkness of my depression.

It was then that I saw the final positive outcome of my gratitude postings really come to fruition. As soon as I published the Facebook Note, I was inundated with comments and messages far beyond anything I could have expected. Some were simple, little love hearts or kisses, just acknowledging my post. Most were warm and praising, something I certainly hadn't anticipated, celebrating my honesty and my return to better days. The ones I expected least of all were the ones which thanked me: people identified with what I'd been through and recognised parts of themselves in what I'd written.

To this day, whenever I say anything on social media which reveals a little of how I've fought the Black Dog of depression and won, I still get messages and comments saying how people can sympathise or how they appreciate my candour.

As I've said previously, I'm a pretty outspoken gal. I speak as I find and I stand up for my beliefs. I try to do this with tact and care, but still, I know it's not for everyone. But if I can find the courage to say something difficult or painful and know that one person reading it will be helped by it... I don't mind pissing off a couple of others along the way. I try very hard to come from a place of kindness and with good intentions. I don't go out of my way to upset anyone. So my conscience is clear. But sometimes I need the reassurance that I'm reaching someone with what I write - to know that I'm not pouring my heart onto the page in vain.

I was signed off by a wonderful psychiatrist last August and I'm thrilled to be clinically free of depression. That doesn't mean I'll never feel sad or fed up ever again, but for now the skies are blue and sunny inside my soul. I've fallen out of the habit of posting my "good things" lists because I don't need to remind myself that there's good in the world. I am currently living with some physical pain issues so I don't always have great days, but I know that there's lots to be thankful for in my world.

I'm incredibly grateful for the family and friends who supported me when I was at my worst, even though some of them are no longer in my life. I regret losing friendships, but I still know that I've never done anything with malice, so I'm thankful that I have no guilt over them. I wish my Gran was here to see me out the other side of my illness, because she was such a good help when I was low. She had some great wee expressions and phrases which I still think of regularly. I'm grateful to have had her in my life for over 30 years and that my children knew her long enough to have memories with her.

My boys are a huge source of thankfulness. They're two funny, sweet, unique little men and even if they are completely endless, I'm also endlessly grateful for them.

My husband is a special creature. He's seen me at my worst and never wavered. There aren't enough words to convey my gratitude at being in Team Gibson. Our boys (M1 and M2) reckon that there are four people and one dog in Team Gibson, but I know there's really three people, one dog and a superhero.

However, the point of the daily good things list isn't to praise and laud my loved ones. The real point is to see the beauty in the little things around me. When I'm not carpe-ing the diem, nor carpe-ing the noctem - really when I'm struggling to move my legs at all, never mind seizing anything - I can't feel guilty about wasting my time here. My body is temporarily failing, so I can't go exploring the world or seeking adventure. Sometimes it's okay not to seize the day, but just let the day go by quietly. Life is short, I don't want to waste it, but by recognising all the little things that make the world great, I'm celebrating the life I've been given. And that's okay.

So I'll continue to be grateful for a quiet cup of coffee, for my loud boys, for little moments with good friends, for listening to my Grampa's silly stories, for wet doggy cuddles, for a nice bit of cake and for the weed my child picked on the way home from school for me. These are all of the happy memories that make up a life well-lived. By my standards. And they'll do just nicely. 

Peace and love.


FGx


Links:
Samaritans
Sane

Please ask for help if you need it. You are never alone. FGx

Felix culpa

While researching a phrase to use in this blog post, I stumbled across an article on a website I'd never heard of before (it seems to be a "smarter" version of Buzzfeed). The article itself was originally posted 3 years ago and it's a list of Latin phrases which were once in common use in the English language but have fallen out of favour. As a keen linguist, I had to click on it and read the entire thing, to the extent that I've forgotten what phrase I was originally checking! I do this quite a lot and I call it "falling into the internet hole" although I've subsequently seen it called "falling down the online rabbit hole."

Either way, my mind wandered from where it had started - a blog about being grateful for life and making the most of the hand we're dealt, which doesn't automatically mean cramming as much "stuff" into life as possible... That blog will come another day. Instead I fell onto the topic of Latin phrases and some philosophies that were relevant 2000 years ago and are shockingly relevant today.

I don't know, dear reader, if you have arrived here after your own fall down the rabbit hole, but if you read my previous blog, you'll have seen that I am a) a raging liberal and b) not a fan of the new president of the USA. Please don't feel that either of these things define me: I am more than the sum of my parts. Nonetheless, on this occasion, it is the above factors which came to mind as I read the article and the definitions of each phrase. These are also the basis of the rest of this blog post.

There were three phrases which especially felt important. I'd like to share them with you...

"Homo sum humani a me nihil alienum puto"
I am a human being, so nothing human is strange to me
The article describes this as advocating respect among all people, regardless of superficial differences. I think this can apply across several levels. In the context of modern politics, we need to encourage less division and fewer barriers. The world is shrinking as transport and technology connects us at greater speed than ever before. Yet the population is more divided than at any time in living memory... except among the decreasing few who remember World War II.

We can also use this phrase as a reminder to consider the many circumstances which we face as humans - positive, negative, affirming or debilitating. When chatting earlier about someone who only joins conversations infrequently and even then with little enthusiasm, I had to force myself to think that this person could be suffering from any number of issues, from anxiety or pain to bad past experiences. We never know what drives another human until we really get to know them intimately. Even within our own culture, race, religion, age group, there are so many other things which can separate us that we must fight to put them aside and look only at what unites us all: our humanity.

"Corvus oculum corvi non eruit"
A crow will not pull out the eye of another crow
Once we've realised that we belong to a team (or species!) it is our duty to stand shoulder to shoulder for the benefit of the group. From childhood I've never understood the attitude of "I'm alright Jack" - I'm fine so why bother worrying about the person next to me. Everything in nature shows that we are stronger together: a blade of grass is easily blown over but an entire hay bale takes a lot of effort to move.

Equally, human history shows us that societies which fail to support their most vulnerable put everyone at risk. A German theologian became known for his statement beginning, "First they came for..." which has been copied and altered many times. Martin Niemöller was a pastor in the German Lutheran church and was an early supporter of Hitler and the national conservative ideology which arose after the fall of the German empire and the Weimar Republic's subsequent socialist and communist leanings. However by 1934 he had realised the extremities of the Nazi cause and was a campaigner against them. Despite his change of heart, he still had some flawed opinions at that stage and only spoke out for those whose beliefs aligned with his own. He was imprisoned in 1937 and again in 1938 (with no freedom between sentences!) until 1945 when he was liberated at the end of the war. He cites this imprisonment, spent with people from all walks persecuted by the Nazis, as the turning point in his life. He spent the rest of his days campaigning for peace, justice and disarmament. He was a key figure in the Stuttgart Declaration of Guilt which acknowledged the failings of the Church in allowing the Nazi persecutions to go on without challenge. He is still controversial as a flawed individual but by his death in 1984 he had fully admitted the sins of his past and worked tirelessly to make amends. His story is quite remarkable and one which I think is important not to lose through time. His story also serves a valuable role today in reminding us not to repeat his mistakes. It is vitally important that we do not allow governments and leaders to sideline, persecute or exclude any group from our society, regardless of our own position or privilege, and with Pastor Martin's words in our ears:

"Castigat ridendo mores"

Laughing corrects morals

Morals are subjective. What I believe is "right" is entirely based on my nature and nurture. Another part of my nature/nurture is a complete inability to keep my mouth shut when I perceive injustice or wrongdoing. I am a very outspoken person and while I am capable of tact, diplomacy and common sense, I am also a fierce fighter for those who cannot speak for themselves. I understand why some people shy away from speaking up, preferring to avoid negative attention. I sympathise, especially when I'm on the receiving end of backlash after opening my mouth to object to something. I'm tempted to do what my children try with their mouths when they get into trouble for speaking out of turn: Zip it, lock it, put it in your pocket.

Then I remember Pastor Martin. I'm a western white female. I'm a follower of the largest religion in the world. I would have thought that I was in a position of privilege. Until I witnessed a room of men in America enact a law that affects women globally. Then today I read the Vice President of that largest power in the Western world promise to defund selected women-only rights. Regardless of your views on abortion, these two acts directly affect women and only women. "Privileged," western, white women as well as the poorest in US society. This presidency is only one week old and its laws, signings, bills and promises have already hit immigrants, Native Americans, women and federal scientists (who were figuratively gagged in direct contravention of their First Amendment rights).

It is tempting to say, "it's only in America, it won't affect us," but the unelected Prime Minister of the UK is currently having tea and Bakewell tarts in the White House, so I wouldn't start counting any chickens just yet. Just as Hitler wanted a world filled only with blond-haired, blue-eyed boys who followed only the ideologies espoused by Adolf himself, it won't be long before we start to see the American businessman finding a way to harm any group that doesn't fit his standard of greatness. And what is good for the US is often OK in the UK, since we became the weaker partner in that "special relationship."

So with "phrase one" in mind of our fellow humanity and "phrase two" in mind of our obligations to stand up for each other, we must now push forward with "phrase three:" kill their power with satire. Laughter is the key. Undermine them, challenge them, ridicule them and just don't take them bloody seriously. If you take them seriously, they can go ahead unhindered. Waste their time arguing semantics, grammar, crowd size... Take up valuable air time to make them look silly. Anything to stop them having a platform for hatred and prejudice.

I found out about the Women's Marches too late to join in, but I loved looking through photos from the events, especially reading all of the signs. Some were ingeniously funny. A friend travelled to Washington DC to take part in the march and I cried watching her videos. There weren't just women in attendance, but men, children, dogs! Standing together to say that we will not be knocked down so long as we have each other.

So when the scientists of the US National Parks, EPA and NASA were vilified earlier this week and began to plan a march for later this year, I decided to follow the UK sister march and I intend to be there with my husband and children (they just don't know it yet!) I'm utterly sh*t at science of any kind (I'm a linguist, remember?) but my husband is a scientist and my oldest son has the most curious mind imaginable, always has. We will stand as a family, as part of a wider community and say, "not in my name."

So there you have it. I opened my laptop tonight to write a blog about how to enjoy life and I ended up exploring language and politics. Again. Oops. I promise the next blog won't be controversial at all, not even a little bit. It will be positive and life-affirming and fun.

Bigly fun.

Stay woke.

FG x

Latin article here

More on Pastor Martin here

UK science march info here

US science march info here

Truth, lies and obfuscation (in which there are no pictures)

The date is Sunday 22nd January 2017.

On Friday, I avoided all coverage and commentary of the US presidential inauguration. On Saturday, I couldn't avoid seeing the fall-out and debate after the event.

Three hours ago, the newly installed president's press secretary stood in front of the White House press corps and berated "sections" of them for misreporting crowd sizes during the inauguration. He then proceeded to justify this with lies. I won't go into the many lies he used, but needless to say the evidence is readily available for those who choose to fact-check.

Earlier on Saturday I was part of a discussion about the concept of accepting everyone's opinion, even if they're wrong. The conversation was very civil and no names were called or insults thrown. We debated the nuances of what makes one argument "right" and another "wrong" and when there are times of greyness. All agreed that in a majority of cases there is a definite right answer, with scientific basis. Having an opposing view doesn't automatically make one wrong, it requires further investigation. It was a very interesting and thought provoking conversation on social media and I enjoyed taking part.

I recently heard a public figure point out that nothing is "meh" any more - that there was a time not long ago when things were "meh," a sort of shrug-of-the-shoulders, just-okay type of status. In 2017, it would seem that "meh" isn't allowed. If you don't agree with an opinion, you must therefore take a contrary and apposite view. Sometimes, I don't agree with someone on social media or on the news, but I can't say I have strong feelings to the extreme alternative; I'm just a bit "meh." But this isn't allowed in current rhetoric. I sit quietly disagreeing with both extremes, wondering what happened to the middle ground.

The new American president would have you believe that you're either on his side - the side of the little guy, middle class, white Americans - or you're a raging socialist equal to the Nazis of 1930s Germany (check out some of his campaign speeches for veracity of this).  Now I'm a left-wing liberal feminist as much as the next person, but isn't it time we embraced the middle ground again? DJT's first act as president was to lift the climate- and water-protection laws to allow big energy companies free reign again. I understand that he's a climate change denier, but surely he could have found a way to loosen the restrictions on energy companies without actually legalising water pollution again? Am I wrong in assuming that he understands the laws he's repealing? Or is he just taking requests from his business buddies and acting on them without hesitation, deviation or repetition?

A recent survey showed that people in 20 of the world's most affluent and advanced nations believe that the world is getting "worse" - defined in the survey as more divided, more unjust and more extreme. As I see it, extremists in power force the "other side" to their extreme and the divide opens further. Until the extremists stop running the world, it'll only get worse. Unless World War III breaks out. Then we'll be up the creek...

While all of this is going on in the world around me, I sit quietly waiting for test results that will hopefully tell me if my current health condition is curable or permanent, treatable or not. I don't know what's in store for my joints, my memory or my eyesight. Nor do I know what will happen with my oldest son, who is currently waiting for a psychological review. Furthermore, my husband is in a temporary job, with no certainty over his future. My younger son seems blissfully unaware of the chaos around him and appears to sail through life. Long may it continue! However I decided earlier this month that my new resolution is simply a positive outlook: if I can't say something nice, say nothing; if I don't know how something will turn out, assume the best; prepare for the worst but hope for the best - there's that word "hope" again.

I will continue to fight for justice and equality in the wider world, I will fight for the best for my children and their peer group, I will support my husband in his fight for the career he deserves and I will fight for my own health and wellbeing. Everything I do is done in the spirit of hope and I won't let uncertainty and fear change my attitude. My kids still think they have a great life and as of Saturday afternoon they think they have awesome parents - I'm not going to disabuse them of those beliefs!

Let me be challenged, bring on the questions; I'll answer with truth and fairness. But sometimes I'll be happy in the middle ground, with my incomplete opinions, and you can't stop me.


Peace and love

FG x

Return to the dark side...

It's been almost 4 weeks since my last blog.

That feels like a confession. I never wanted to use this blog as a confessional. Which is why I've avoided it during the last few weeks when my mood has been low. I had planned to take the time off up to Christmas, but the other 3 weeks' absence were purely down to keeping the bad sh*t to myself. There's enough negative stuff posted on the internet, no?

(Yes, I censored myself in the last paragraph, my mum might be reading!)

So if you're going through some dark stuff, how do you keep the internet positive? "If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything." Is that it?

Sometimes, though, knowing that other people are going through the same thing can be helpful - positive, if you will! So sharing your negative experience can give support to those in need. And hope. Hope is a powerful resource.

I confess here and now to being a massive geek. I love sci-fi and fantasy. I'm raising my two little boys to be geeks. I'd be hard-pressed to pick a favourite but my kids would pick Star Wars every time. I could write an entire, separate blog about why they might be right AND why they might be wrong. But part of what I love about SW is hope.

Princess Leia was the ideal movie heroine when I was a young girl: she fought for her people and their freedom, she was feisty, she held her own among men, she rocked a totally unique look and she didn't care what anyone thought of her. But chiefly, she clung to hope against all the odds.

For quite different reasons - although I'm sure a psychologist would tell you it's all subconsciously connected - I have a tattoo that reads "HOPE OVER FEAR" in bold, clear capital letters. It's a bastardisation of a Nelson Mandela quote: "May your choices in life reflect your hope rather than your fear."

For Madiba it meant making hard decisions and putting his neck on the line when it would be easier to sit down and stay quiet. Due to his close ties to Glasgow and his massive popularity here, it was used as a motto during the Scottish Independence Referendum campaign in 2014 to reflect pro-indepence voters' hopes for their country rather than fears of what might go wrong.

For me, it's a regular reminder to banish the anxiety which creates fear and to live in hope: hope of a better day tomorrow, hope for a medical improvement, hope for my kids to be happy.

Sometimes, though, making decisions based on hope involves speaking out for what you believe in. That exposes you to scrutiny. And other people's opinions. Just as I came across people who disagreed with me during the independence referendum, three years later I continue to find myself on the opposite side of the table from people when I voice my opinion. For example I recently had a (very minor and trivial) debate with someone over the merits of ironing school shirts. While I could have kept my thoughts on the matter to myself, I also found myself wanting to help my friend who'd raised the question. I wasn't simply airing my view in order to have it heard (look at me!) but I was trying to improve someone else's quality of life (very marginally, a few times a week).

I don't blog to have my wonderful opinions seen online. I have no desire to become "Internet-famous." I live simply in hope that my little ramblin' prose will help someone who identifies with what I have to say. Most of the time my words are carefully chosen and intend only to do good. I accept that some will disagree with what I believe - even though they're clearly wrong(!) - but I'm capable of accepting that and biting my lip. You can't make people think like you. You can show them your side of the issue, no more. There's a cute little picture in our bathroom that has a little family of ducks on it and underneath it reads, "You can lead a child to water, but you can't make them wash."

A humorous garbling of a popular saying. One which I can testify is accurate. Anyone else who has parented a 6- and a 7-year-old boy can surely agree. I put my thoughts online in the hope that they will reach someone in a meaningful way. If that doesn't happen, I haven't done something wrong. The intention is good, the action is good. The end result just hasn't gone my way. And that's something I'm trying to accept through all aspects of my life right now.

I went to the doctor today to ask for more consideration of the pain I'm suffering at the moment. I was fortunate enough to see a locum doctor who took a little more time familiarising herself with my history before diving straight in. She felt the swelling in my hips, knees and fingers. She considered everything on my file and then everything I presented today and she agreed that what I'm experiencing is no longer acceptable for the diagnosis I'd been given. She'd like to investigate further and has ordered more tests with a laundry list of new things to look for in my bloodstream.

The niggling voice of anxiety in my head has been dismissing my discomfort and pain for weeks, telling me that what I have wrong with me is trivial and that I must be a wuss. If I'd gone to the doctor with that attitude I'd have taken my regular prescription from her, thanked her and left. Because I live in hope of something better, I spoke out. I hoped that there would be a better explanation. I was right. At best, I'll get a new diagnosis with a good prognosis. At worst, I'll discover that my existing condition is worse than first thought. I know that's the worst case scenario because the doctor said those words to me. And she wouldn't have done that if I hadn't stuck my neck out and voiced my concerns.

The worst thing about living in fear is that it confirms itself. By living in hope, I give myself a chance to discover new things and make better choices while the worst thing that happens is that I don't get what I want - but I wouldn't have got it anyway. By living in fear, you only ever get your fears fed back to you: you don't get the job you didn't go for; you don't raise well-behaved children without showing that you trust them; you don't get a new clinical diagnosis if you don't tell your doctor about new symptoms. Living in fear achieves very little. But living in hope?

Hoping for the best but allowing for the worst is a realistic but positive way to live life. Acting on your hopes for yourself and the world gives you the satisfaction of trying, regardless of the outcome. A wise woman recently said to me, I'll only ever regret the chances I didn't take.

So I acknowledge that I lived in fear for the last few weeks - I should have been blogging but I didn't do it out of fear that readers wouldn't want to see the darkness I was going through. My tattoo has shaken me out of that state and I'm going forward again...

With A New Hope.



FG x