Mother’s Day is always a tricky one for me. I love my Mum, of course I want to celebrate her. I have a lot of wonderful Mums in my life. All of whom deserve to be spoiled. I also feel incredibly fragile.
I’ve put a lot of time and effort into building a protective shell around myself. You can’t live if you wake up everyday confounded by what you have lost. It’s always there, but self preservation is an art you can learn. There are some thoughts that I don’t allow myself to examine. I push them outside of my armour and focus on something else. Unfortunately my shell is not impenetrable. There are dates, memories that crack the surface. Mother’s Day, is obviously one of those occasions.
Mothering Sunday is a trigger in the true sense of the word. It has the power to wreck me. Realistically, that’s not an option. I refuse to ruin a special day for people I love. Still, the whole process is hard. Shopping for gifts is painful. I find myself drawn to things that I’d like to have received. I both love and envy watching my niblings express their love for their Mummies. That bond between mother and child is unique. And oh so special. All of my siblings have children meaning my Mum is also Gran. They love her so much and always want to make/buy things for her too. It’s another little detail that I dreamed of, but won’t live. Each of these pierce holes in my carefully crafted casing.
For me, the solution has been creating a little emotional distance. I pull myself back from the feelings and do what I can to enjoy the day. When I’m alone again, I let myself feel it. What’s the point of this? Just to say that if you are struggling today, I get it. It’s ok to give yourself what you need. Go gentle.
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As predicted last week’s level of activity resulted in this week’s inactivity. I’ve been sore and exhausted. Tedious, but expected. The thing that has really been bothering me is my foul mood.
I’m extremely pissed off. Don’t ask me why because I have no idea. No one has done anything egregious. I have experienced no great wrong. Yet, each day I wake up feeling grumpier than the last. My baseline emotion is crabby.
The slightest provocation sends my simmering frustration to bubbling over. I lose a page in a book, spill my tea, forget a detail and I’m furious. My wrath is not solely directed inwards, everyone & everything annoys me. For no reason. I know my feelings are unreasonable. Consequently, it is best for me to be where others are not. I doubt all this seclusion is helpful. Turning all this negativity on myself is unlikely to produce much joy.
I’m at a loss for a solution. I’m accustomed to feeling sad or scared, but this aimless anger is uniquely discomforting. I hope it will pass. Perhaps when I’m less fatigued my mood will lift. Maybe the state of the world is getting to me. Or just life itself. Whatever the cause, I do not love it.
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Time to talk day has just be crept across my timeline. I’m hoping it’s a testament to how attitudes have changed towards what is needed in the mental health sphere that I’m only being alerted to it at 9.30pm. Despite my cynicism I clicked and perused the website.
Sadly, it’s the same old story. Like most other mainstream advocacy for mental illness, Time to talk fails in tackling the real barriers people with mental illness face. Of course it is important to dispel stigma around mental health problems. It is also great to encourage people to support friends, colleagues etc. The tips on how to approach such conversations are fairly helpful. My issue with this model is that I don’t believe it acknowledges the depth & breath of the problem. In fact, I would go further in saying that the offering a listening ear platitudes can even diminish the experience of many with mental illness.
I’m 43yrs old and I have managed various levels of mental Illness almost entire and life. In all of that time the NHS has been under resourced in the mental health sector. As the years have gone by funding has been slashed and the problem has grown. We have been at crisis status for a very long time. There has been an uptake in mental health awareness. Campaign after campaign successfully identified warning signs and urged us to seek help. Unfortunately, the help requested is most often not forthcoming.
At the moment just getting a Gp appointment can be an enormous struggle. From there referral to primary mental health services always results in landing in a very long waiting list. If you can survive that wait, the treatment available can be limited. The first line is usually a limited course of CBT (cognitive behavioural therapy). CBT can of course be effective for some issues. It is not an answer for more complex mental illness. Alongside CBT there are a variety of helplines and websites, which can offer valuable information, but do not constitute treatment. There are of course psychiatric medications. These can be life saving and do improve the lives of millions. However, they are not magic, most often they must be used in conjunction with other therapies.
A referral beyond the intial interventions already mentioned is difficult to obtain. Infuriatingly, not everyone merits a place on their waiting lists. Those who do make it are in for another privilege wait. The quality, duration & efficacy of what is available at the end of that line is unknown. There are excellent professionals, treatments & resources, but they are stretched beyond thin. There simply aren’t beds, funding or staffing to provide the appropriate treatment & support for everyone who needs it. The result is, most people are shirt changed. Problems that could be caught early are allowed to progress. Serious problems become emergencies. In short, our population suffers more mental illness and become trapped in illness for longer. Some, forever.
Beyond the personal tragedy, the social and economic toll this takes is clear. People become unable to work, care for their families, participate in their communities, they then are laden with whole new set of problems. This of course negatively impacts their mental health and round they go. More people end up in crisis with no where to turn but emergency services, which are not equipped to render proper treatment. Again worsening the situation of the individual and eroding resources available overall. Apply this cycle across the board and it becomes obvious how vicious it is. It is an enormous widespread problem that can not be solved without massive funding, recruitment and a re evaluation of government policy.
Atop those failings is the fundamental shortcomings of the message itself. Breaking down stigma is vital. However, I think the focus of these campaigns, asking how people are feeling, actually is listening to the answer and so on, don’t go nearly far enough. It gives the impression that all mental illness can be easily solved. The adverts and literature are always about depression or anxiety. They show the palatable side of these conditions; someone who has a difficult period and with a little help from their friends gets better. Images of people crying or holding their head in their hands distort the reality of living with such conditions. When someone can’t get out of bed or in the shower for days on end, when they can’t function or find relief despite those caring chats it’s a shock. A check in with the Gp & some anti depressants won’t cure everything. Mental illness encompasses a myriad of conditions. Symptoms can be extraordinarily distressing and debilitating. Some are enduring illnesses that require complex and specialised treatment. Conditions like schizophrenia, Ptsd or Bpd are rarely discussed. Instead they’re sensationalised & misrepresented in the media. Perpetuating dangerous ideas about those living with certain conditions. The fear and shame have not been dispelled. We’ve merely carved out a tiny category of ‘acceptable’ mental illness.
The recovery narrative presented in mainstream mental health advocacy is too simple. Not everyone gets better. Lots of people instead learn to manage their mental illness. Others have recurring episodes. They are still smart, loving, valuable human beings. When all society is presented with is neat stories of struggle, seek help, return to health forever expectations are unrealistic . Those who don’t follow that template become doubted. Compassion turns to thinking they’re not trying hard enough or maybe they’re exaggerating. Stigma persists. We need an informed public. Not only on the broader experience of mental illness, but on ways to bring about change. People should know why our services are failing. The power of our voices and votes must be understood. We also need education around navigating the systems that exist. Everyone should be aware of how best to advocate for themselves and loved ones. We do need to talk, it’s just a much bigger conversation.
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I’ve never feared storms. On the contrary, I mostly find them comforting. Thunder, gales, torrential downpour all increase my sense of safety as long as I experience their strength from behind four walls. Nothing feels quite as cosy as listening to wild weather batter around one’s secure domicile. The sounds are soothing. The gratitude of having a comfortable place to take shelter brings a warm contentment. Similarly, I enjoy rough seas. I’ve always preferred a desolate winter beach to one that is sundrenched. I find a listing vessel thrilling. I hope for a crossing choppy enough to produce that I don’t know where my foot will land when I take a step sensation. Crashing waves, howling winds, angry skies; tick, tick, tick.
There is only one niggle. If Mother Nature is unsettled in conjunction with my mind things can get rocky. Only a very particular mood presents a problem. Clear cut emotions pose no threat. If I’m sad the rain feels appropriate. Angry and my dirt is matched.However, if a storm hits when my mind is in conflict with itself, batten down the hatches. Sometimes what I want to feel clashes up against what I actually do feel. Other times I can’t decipher exactly what I think or feel. Then there are the overlapping, opposing emotions running around up there. All of which are heightened by a natural uproar. Somehow nature’s dramatics heighten my confusion. I can’t straighten out my insides & the untamed outdoors gives the mess a false significance. Querulous suppositions that might otherwise pass are given weight. Being aware of this does nothing to lessen the frustration. One can’t logic their way out of a metaphorical brick in the stomach.
Thus tonight I am in flux. Craziness swirls beyond my bedroom window & behind my eyes. I can’t unpick the tangle. Perhaps I’ll know what I feel tomorrow
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I love Christmas. The focus on giving and spending time with loved ones is special. I like the way it makes strangers wish each other merry. It warms my heart to see little ones really believing in the magic of Santa Claus. Tis the season, right?
Well, yes and also a little bit no. The last few weeks have been a whirl of wrapping gifts, singing carols with excited little people, twinkly lights & festive fun. I have adored every minute of it. However, now that all the presents are delivered and prep is completed I feel a tad blue. This always happens. I needed a rest day before the main event, but as soon as I slow down it hits.
My siblings and friends are having cosy days at home with their families. My Christmas nest is empty. I can’t help but think of what could have been. All traditions I wanted to pass on; opening just one present on Xmas eve, fuzzy red stockings with their names in gold, snuggling with Santa hyped darlings as we read a new festive bed time story. Then the frantic readying of gifts whilst my babies sleep. Santa presents wouldn’t be wrapped in my house; just lain out beautifully in the living room. Ready to be enjoyed the second they wake. There wouldn’t be any Christmas morning rules. Rising before dawn, chocolate for breakfast, all out Christmas chaos would be just fine. There’s an unsung seasonal opera in my head.
I know I’m very lucky. Tomorrow I will be with family. Exchanging gifts and clinking glasses. I’ll watch my nephew tear open his gifts and be loaded with big loving squeezes. I’m safe, warm & loved. That is a lot to be grateful for. There’s still hint of sorrow for the dreams that didn’t come to pass.
I know I’m not alone in being touched by sadness at this time of year. If you’re struggling this year, I’m sending love. If joy is out reach I hope you can find some peace.
About a month ago I made a Tik Tok about wegovy & similar ‘weight loss’ jabs. I had seen a lot of people promoting them, giving advice on how to get them prescribed etc. These positive posts all had notable omissions. I wanted to address the missing information.
I am fully behind bodily autonomy & wouldn’t tell people what to do with their bodies. However, I think it is essential that we have all the information before making medical decisions. It’s impossible to consent to treatment if you aren’t informed of all the risks, side effects and so on.
The current information on medications of this type is that weight loss will be most significant in the first 6months. Loss will peak at 1year and regardless of how long you remain on the drug, you will start to regain after that point. Regaining any weight lost is not only a certainty, it will happen fast. In fact the data shows that the pattern of weight loss & gain is similar to other methods of intentional weight loss. You are likely to regain not only the weight lost, but a little extra on top too.
People who have these injections report many gastric symptoms. Extreme nausea, vomiting & diarrhoea sometimes for weeks or months at a time. For others those side effects never settle. Long term use increases the risk of gallbladder problems & pancreatitis. Both are very painful, the latter can be deadly if not promptly treated. It’s also important to note that these injections have not been licensed for more than 2yrs for use in non diabetics. They have also never been prescribed in such high doses. The truth is there are still many unknowns. What we do know for sure it that these medications have serious risks & promise only short term results.
So, why am I going over all this again? Today I got a notification of a comment on that video. Reading it broke my heart.
I understand that sentiment. I used to feel that way. I’d make jokes about smoking instead of eating; saying as long as I was a thin corpse I didn’t care. I know how painful it is to feel that way. What’s worse is I know that many of the professionals who swore an oath to ‘do no harm’ feel the same way. Fat phobia is so ingrained in the medical profession that Drs recommend harmful meds, diets & surgeries to fat patients. Rushed to market, poorly tested and even known to be ineffective interventions. It matters not, because they’d rather we be sick or even dead than fat.
We deserve better. We should be able to consult our Drs when needed without the dreaded weight loss chat. We are entitled to treatments & procedures without having to first agree to dangerous diets. We are as worthy of respect and compassion as any other patient. And, we can demand it.
There are so many amazing resources to help fat patients deal with medical weight stigma. Two of my favourite fat positive medical folks are Dr Asher Larmie & Dr Joshua Wolrich both have written extensively on the topic. I cannot recommend their work enough.
I too am happy to help if I can. I’m not a medical health professional, but have learned many strategies for dealing with anti fat Drs. I’m always delighted to pass these on.
If Bronan’s belly is cute, so is yours.
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The government has launched yet another useless campaign. This time they claim the aim is empowering & dispelling myths about disabled people.
In my opinion Ask Don’t Assume is a big fail. I don’t seem to be alone in that opinion. Many disabled people agree that encouraging the public at large to ask us whatever questions into pop their heads is a terrible idea. The government claim to have done extensive research. According to Minister for Disabled People, Health & Work, Tom Pursglove that ‘extensive research was with 500+ people with lived experience of disability. To be honest I’m surprised they found 500 people who thought this was a good campaign. However, with 6.3 million people currently entitled to disability benefits*, consulting 500 does not qualify as extensive.
One of the problems I encounter as a disabled/chronically ill person is maintaining boundaries. So many strangers don’t think twice of asking personal & invasive questions. Almost every time I leave the house someone will ask ‘what’s wrong with you’. In recent years Tory policies regarding disability benefits have led to more people holding hostile views. Disabled people are often viewed with suspicion, which leads to strangers demanding information from me. People who know nothing about me or my circumstances feel entitled to my private medical information just incase I am somehow ‘scrounging’ benefits. A government campaign with the tagline, Ask Don’t Assume, legitimatises this behaviour.
Further, a lot of the campaign materials include toxic positivity/inspiration porn content. I watched a video with a woman describing her disability as a strength and as something that ‘can give back’. Everyone is of course able to decide what disability means to them, but none of this resonates with me. My disabilities make my life much harder. There are lots of thing I simply can not do. Even the most mundane of daily tasks are negatively impacted by my conditions. That doesn’t feel like a strength to me. I also cannot comprehend how a disability ‘gives back’. Do my defective knees perform acts of service? Or is my daily fainting somehow contributing to a greater good? If so, I haven’t seen the evidence or benefit.
I do not believe that this narrative is advantageous to the disabled community. Our value is not tied up in how well we overcome our disabilities. Disabled & sick people require accommodations. There will always be things we cannot do without assistance or at all. Our bodies do not function like the average person. There is no amount of determination or strength that can change that. The onus should not be on us to make abled bodied people feel comfortable with that. Disabled people should not have to be grateful, inspirational or make themselves ill trying to prove their worth.
There have also been calls for our government to address their obvious failings with regards to disability rights. The Tories have spent over a decade attacking disabled people. Their continued battle to deprive people of vital benefits has done untold harm. Purposely making it incredibly difficult for those with mental illness to qualify for support is intolerable. Their persistent refusal to acknowledge UN reports on the circumstances of disabled people in the UK. Along with long-standing inequalities such as disabled people being unable to live with a partner or marry without losing disability benefits. There are many urgent issues this government could address if they truly wanted to empower disabled people. This is very poorly executed lip service.
If someone wants to share about themselves, they will do so. If a person requires your assistance, they will request it. There are very few instances in which is imperative to know the details of someone’s disability. The exceptions, health & safety in the workplace, safely accessing facilities and so on can all be handled discretely & professionally. There is never a reason to intrude on a disabled person’s privacy. This campaign does the opposite of its stated objectives. Considering it is a Conservative initiative, no one is surprised.
* UK Disability Statistics Feb 2023.
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I have been somewhat absent here. Anxiety has engulfed me. There is a very specific reason for the anxiety, unfortunately it is not a thing that I control or fix.
Theoretically being able to pinpoint the trigger means it I should have a definite end point. However, since resolution is not within power the uncertainty persists. I can’t even begin to address the issue until next week, which leaves me endlessly playing out scenarios in my head. It is sickeningly stressful. The fear that has been sitting on my chest for a week feels like it’s attempting to climb up & grab for my throat.
I’ve tried every calming weapon in my arsenal to little effect. When I managed to leave the house every sensation was painfully amplified. I was both submerged in sound & every noise was taking place inside my body. Likewise, every living being in my approximate vicinity seemed claustrophobically close. I felt dangerously on display & incapable of making a quick retreat. Sitting still was impossible, but moving left me gasping for breath. I couldn’t decipher if it was Pots or anxiety related. The more I worried about it, the less able I was to catch my breath.
Outside was brutal. Inside is merely a more measured torment. The slow drip of water torture rather than the ripping out of finger nails. I remain on high alert. For what I don’t know; there is no physical threat. My mind stubbornly refuses to divert course. If I pull it astray thoughts quickly revert to dissecting worse case situations. This is very much a wait and see kind of issue. Strategising & replaying every possible outcome cannot help me.
Still, I lie awake at night with my heart pounding. When I finally dip into sleep my subconscious conjures catastrophes that aren’t even feasible. I awake in a panic that fades to dread. An awful gnawing fear the dark summons in the certain absence of slumber. I never feel more inclined to screaming than when imprisoned in insomnia. 3am worries are no one’s friend.
Of course I reassure myself that I can survive subpar outcomes. I do know that this extreme horror level of anxiety will not last forever. I’ve coped with worse & there will be much better days. My mind simply doesn’t care. We’re hyped up to life or death threat defence and it has no intention backing down. If I had a bunker, I would be in it.
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Last year was tough. Long covid/Pots really did a number on my already subpar health. It was hard to keep on top of even basic daily tasks. All aspects of my life suffered. In an effort to shake that not quite enough feeling I’ve raided the brain for my 2022 highlights.
I contributed to the book Rebel Bodies by Sarah Graham. It’s an incredible piece of work about the gender gap in healthcare. Sarah covers the intersections of gender, weight, age & disability whilst deconstructing the barriers women & non binary people face when trying to access appropriate medical care. I am so proud to share my story of medical weight stigma and be part of this book.
In April we took my Mum on a birthday trip to Salzburg. She had a big birthday at the end of 2021 & we wanted to do something special. Mum loves The Sound of Music & has always talked about going to Salzburg. This year, she finally got there and it was magical. We stayed at Schloss Leopoldskron, where the movie was filmed, took a private Sound of Music tour and had a generally amazing time. Salzburg is incredibly beautiful and taking Mum on her dream holiday was wonderful.
At the very beginning of ‘22 I was a guest on the Anti Diet Club podcast. The pod creators Gillian Wilson and Tamsin Broster are dedicated to helping others divest from diet culture. I love the work they do and was honoured that they considered my voice worth hearing. It is such a pleasure to connect with others who are committed to fighting fat phobia.
This summer I got to revive a love from my youth. I thought festivals were a thing of the past for me, but thank to TRNSMT’s comprehensive accessibility accommodations I was back in the game. Watching bands, whilst sipping cider in the sun with my bestie & sister made me feel 22 again. Screaming along with The Strokes as the the sun went down was such a highlight.
This one might seem small, but felt significant to me. The Guardian journalist Martin Belam recommended me in his Friday Reads. Having a writer I respect enjoy my work enough to share it felt good. Especially in a year when my health has interfered with my creative output.
Last, but never least is of course being an Auntie. It is my biggest joy. I am so excited to watch all of my niblings grow. Last year they continued to surprise & impress. I am endlessly grateful to be part of their lives.
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Christmas is a funny old time. We’re all feeling sentimental and emotions are heightened. I struggled a little this year, but still had a beautiful Christmas Day.
I got all dressed up for Christmas with family & friends. We had lots of food, presents & excited children. I feel loved & grateful for having such wonderful people in my life. Especially that I am blessed with so many niblings to adore. I’m equally thankful that I can spend the post festivity stretch ensconced in jammies & cosy socks.
I know this time of year can be hard for a multitude of reasons. Xmas is all about children and I find myself dwelling on how different my life could be. There are so many reminders of what I have lost. If these past weeks have been arduous, I hope you were able to have as merry a time as possible. If merry is a stretch, then I wish you peace & a better new year.
Something in the way she moves... 
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