Still…

I’m doing well. I really am. When I compare with my previous self there is no doubt that I’m in a much better place. Still, no matter how well I become, the devil on my shoulder remains.

That devil is destruction. Self destruction. Sometimes just flashes; a momentary thought of blood or blades. Other times I experience the deepest longing to ravage my skin. My reaction to pain is still, more often that I would like, the desire for more pain. Not the same kind of pain. A pain I can control. I have worked at working myself out. Learning healthy coping strategies, questioning myself, pinning down what I feel and why have been an ongoing process for decades. I am better. I haven’t self harmed in a very long time. I still want to, though.

Not everyday. Not in the compulsive ‘can’t think about anything else until it is done way’. I don’t berate myself for not cutting or create a mandatory timetable. That is gone. I have conquered that aspect of my demon. My problem is, the underlying urge never really goes away. In times of trouble my mind thinks it knows what will ‘help’. I suppose it’s like being an alcoholic. There will always be days when one really wants a drink, except in my case it’s a scalpel, not a bottle I want to reach for. The weird bit is that these thoughts aren’t reserved for awful days. Occasionally, for no reason whatsoever, a wave of craving will hit me. Honestly, my toolbox isn’t particularly helpful in those instances. It is very difficult to reason with a nonsensical ghost in your head. I’m left with sheer determination & an awareness of how slippery the slope is.

Strangely, I rarely hear anyone talk about this. There is much discussion about the warning signs for self harm, the damage it causes and how to stop. There is even information on how to treat wounds and hide scars. It’s all very much a before and after narrative. People are sick and then they recover. As I’m sure you’re aware, very few things are ever that simple. We generally understand the complex nature of addiction and mental illness. For example, much work has been done to educate people on eating disorders. Most people know how difficult they are to manage and recover from. It’s generally understood that people are not concretely cured. It is a process that involves relapses and continuous effort. Disordered eating becomes compulsive and corrupts thought patterns. Often nothing is as important as maintaining the disease. Likewise substance abuse takes over a person. The priority becomes obtaining the substance of choice. Whilst no one thinks that’s good or healthy, we do understand that people don’t want to be controlled by an illness. These are topics that are commonly discussed; we have compassion and celebrate those who have worked towards recovery. Not so for self harm.

Self harm is still taboo. There isn’t really any mainstream discourse of its realities. No one is making serious documentaries or accurate media portrayals. Celebrities aren’t telling stories of how they won their battle with self harm in the way they regularly do regarding addiction, eating disorders or issues like anxiety. The latter are viewed as brave and inspiring, self harm is still seen as disturbing. Even talk of relapse or the ongoing nature of recovery are received positively, but discussions like I had above is very much in the ‘crazy’ category for most. Despite the fact that statistics show the prevalence of ED & SH are fairly similar and that they share many commonalities, the public perception is very different. Even years into ‘recovery’ it frustrates me. The stigma sticks. I can carry the weight of other people’s judgement now. That wasn’t always the case and it won’t be for many still in the throes of illness. The fear of the judgement creates an impediment to seeking help. That delay is extremely dangerous. So, yes, I’m still talking about this because hardly anyone else is. I don’t believe people get better in silence and I think it helps to be prepared for what better might actually look like.

If you like what I do you can support me on Patreon.

Lies and Distractions…

Just when I thought Keir Starmer was the most rage inducing Labour politician, Tony Blair popped his head out of whatever luxury hole he currently resides in. He decided that we all needed to hear his ableist and stigmatising opinions.

This statement is vile in a number of ways. Blair’s wilful ignorance will contribute to rising disability hate. There is no excuse for someone in his position to feed the right wing ‘scrounger’ narrative. I feel compelled to clear some things up.

Self Diagnosis

There is one reason and one reason only that there has been a rise in ‘self diagnosis’. That is inability to access mental health services. NHS waiting lists are long and actually getting a referral in the first place is laborious. Many people are instead directed to online resources and/or NHS helplines. Those who make it onto a waiting list may still have battles ahead. Most patients are offered a short course of CBT*, a modality that is not suitable for everyone and is often counterproductive. Those struggling to deal with mental illness are not researching symptoms and looking for a diagnosis for the hell of it. They do so because they are desperate. They are not adequately supported by professionals and are driven to find their own answers.

Disability Benefits Bill

Let me be clear, no one without an official diagnosis is receiving disability benefits. Successfully applying for these benefits (PIP, DLA, ESA or ADP**) is an incredibly onerous endeavour. The process requires extensive disclosures, evidence and the support of medical professionals. The system already purposely discriminates against those with mental illness. The criteria are designed to exclude symptoms and difficulties experienced by those with common mental illness like depression or anxiety. Many people with a professional diagnosis and treatment input from psychiatric services are denied these benefits. There is zero chance of someone just saying they have a condition and being approved.

Gaming the System

Implying that large numbers of people are illegitimately claiming benefits is dangerous and inaccurate. Fraud rates for disability benefits are very low. In fact, there is a higher percentage of claimants being underpaid. The application process is exhaustive. It is intentionally stressful and intimidating. Assessors frequently over ride expert medical opinion despite being unqualified to evaluate the conditions claimants have. Vast numbers of claims are rejected only to be overturned on appeal. Contrary to the current narrative, disabled people are often denied support they are entitled to.

***

Scapegoats

Disabled people make great scapegoats. We are one of the most vulnerable demographics. Often with little emotional or physical resources to fight the bureaucracy. We have been subject to harsh conditions since the beginning of austerity. Research from the University of York found that the impact of cuts to social & healthcare were linked to over 57,000 more deaths than expected between 2010 – 2014 alone. The perception that disability benefits are easily scammed and so costly as to damage the economy further endangers us. In 2023/2004 multiple regions in the UK recorded their highest number of disability hate crimes. Being scapegoated by those in positions of power is nothing new. The Tories have been using us as a distraction from their disastrous policies and corruption for years. To have Labour join in is a tough blow. I didn’t have high hopes for this government, but this page from the Conservative playbook is still alarming. Yes, I know that Blair is not a member of our government, but he does still hold sway within the party. His comments will absolutely be associated with Labour.

Disabled people are not to blame for the crisis in our health service. The UK has been experiencing a swell in both physical and mental illness for a number of years. This is as a result of deteriorating public services and a drop in quality of life. The pandemic played a part, but the biggest culprits are our political leaders. It disgusting that the trend of pointing the finger at a vulnerable group to distract from the reality of governmental failures is set to continue.

* Cognitive Behaviour Therapy

** Personal Independence Payment. Disability Living Allowance. Employment and Support Allowance. Adult Disability Payment.

*** Department of Works & Pensions

If you like what I do you can support me on Patreon.

Another year over & what have we done…

No doubt everywhere you look you’re seeing lists of achievements, New Year’s resolutions and diet talk. Of course, I am here to interrupt all that bullshit.

For starters, you are not required to have a list of great successes. Some years are a hard slog. We all have different obstacles. For that matter we also have different goals and aspirations. Some folk are happy with their status quo and that is perfectly fine. If you’re worrying about your wins not being big or plentiful enough, please don’t. You made it & that’s enough. I don’t care if you didn’t get a big promotion or a new house, you did do every single day. You took care of yourself (& anyone else you’re responsible for), you paid the bills & made the dinners. You were also there for people in your life, you celebrated birthdays and talked through tough times. You are important, you matter in your everyday life. In the words of Self Esteem, ‘all the days you get to have are big days’. So congratulations, you have completed another turn around the sun. I’m certain you’ve had more impact than you know.

Let’s move along to the resolutions. If there are things you want to do by all means set a goal, make a plan. However, you are not obligated to change or become ‘better’ just because we entered a new year. Chances are you already have a whole heap of stuff piled on your plate. Perhaps you’re struggling to digest all that last year brought. Or maybe you’re half through a project or plan. It’s all good. Jan 1st doesn’t really signify anything. Just keep going.

Finally we come to my most disliked new year pressure; weight loss. You are going to be with adverts, influencers and people in your life telling you about their diet. Everyone will have the answer. This new medication, plan, supplement is the real thing. Let me save you a lot of trouble, it’s all crap. It’s the same thing repackaged and trying to convince you it is the answer to all your problems. Diets don’t work. Deep down we all know that. The vast majority of people regain anything shed via intentional weight loss. In fact, most of us add a bit extra too. What’s more, making your body smaller doesn’t fix anything inside you. It’s not a magic wand. In case you don’t hear it anywhere else, I’m going to say it; your worth is not tied to your weight.

You can live your life right now. Shrinking your body is not required. You do not have to for indulging over the festive season. Nor do you have to put anything on hold until you are smaller. Health and weight loss are not the same thing.

In short, you are enough. I hope you feel that and take it into 2025.

If you like what I do you can support me here or on Patreon.

Jingle the shingles…

My absence has continued. I know, I’m full of excuses. I’m apologise. I just keep getting ill or my meds get messed up or the someone in the world does another really fucked up thing. Anyway, this time it’s shingles. Again.

Yup, I have shingles for the third time in 2yrs. I feel a little bit cursed, but my dr assure me it’s actually my immune system and stress that are the culprits. Oh and being a woman; another perk of my sex. We caught it quick, anti virals galore with a bit of luck it won’t get too horrendous. I feel shitty, but it’s manageable. In amongst all my of body’s fuckwittery there has also been a touch of writers block and a general lack of motivation. What I can offer you is some mini reviews of books that have been keeping company.

We’ll start with good, The Alienist by Caleb Carr. This was re read, but the first read was so long ago that I had forgotten most of the details. I enjoyed it so much that I dove straight into the next book in the series, The Angel of Darkness. Both are set in 1890’s NYC. They follow a group of unofficial detectives on the trail of horrific serial killers. They’re led by Dr Kreisler, a pioneering psychologist who uses his unorthodox theories to capture their foe. The rest of the team is comprised of journalist John Moore, trailblazing police secretary Sara Howard and experts in new detective & forensic techniques the Issacson brothers. I love the way emerging ideas that are now commonplace are intertwined throughout the story. They’re classic crime thrillers with intriguing characters. Incredibly engaging, highly recommend.

I am less effusive about Love Untold by Ruth Jones. The book follows four generations of women in a family. It is an interesting story, but not well executed. Some of the character flaws make it difficult to like them, which impacts the books resolution. I also find the plot reveals to be clunky. The book meanders for chapters and then has huge plot dumps. It felt very unsatisfying.

My sister lent me Three Hours by Rosamund Lipton. It’s not my usual thing, but I enjoyed it. Set during a school shooting and told from various perspectives. It is a high tension page turner with some nice twists. The characters are really well developed; the other does a fantastic job of making you care about them.

I hope to regain my mojo very soon. I am doing my best to get into the Christmas spirit. Fingers crossed!

If you like what I do you can support me here or on Patreon.

Life is a rollercoaster…

It’s been a mixed few weeks. The Easter holidays presented lots of opportunities for auntie time. Unfortunately, my body has seized every opportunity to mess with me.

My first Easter adventure was a trip to The Burrell Collection. I spent a lot of time here as a kid and always enjoyed it. It is so nice to share it with the next generation. The boy absolutely loved all the swords and armour. I loved watching him explore.

Dress – Forever 21 Tights – Snag Boots – Air Cloudies

The Burrell is really good on the accessibility front. Wide flat spaces that are easy to manoeuvre. Plenty of places to sit throughout, plus light weight stools you can carry around with you. Spacious lifts to all floors. It is a stunning buildings, with exhibits to entertain all ages.

As you know, I’m big into my glasses. I can never have enough. Thus, I was delighted to collab with Firmoo. These blue beauties have been on my face since the moment they arrived.

Glasses – Firmoo *

Next up was a little dip with my bestie & her brood. Swimming is my favourite, not least because I can properly carry on with kids. In the water I can move with ease. It feels so good not to be in pain every second. It’s even better to play a shark, spin the kids, help them ‘swim’. Much fun was had even if my littlest niece was frustrated that she needed to hold on to me. She was determined that she could do it herself and was not convinced when I explained that she couldn’t swim. Swimming with littles requires clothes that can be easily pulled on whilst squeezed into a tiny changing room with a wiggly child. These wide legs were perfect.

Trousers – Pockets and Sedition Cardigan – Monsoon

A few days later I was back with the treesome for the twin’s birthday. I can’t believe they are three already. It’s a cliche, but kids really do grow too fast! I still call these two babies, which is wishful thinking. They are so smart & funny & full of love. It is an honour to be part of their lives. We had a classic children’s party; balloons, cake & pass the parcel. It was a joy.

On the flip side my insomnia is in full force. Tossing & turning for hours every night is torture. I lie there exhausted, but feeling this horrendous unsettled sensation all over. The more I dwell on this physical embodiment of anxiety, the further away sleep gets. Every day feels like wading through mud. Surviving on minuscule amounts of sleep is the absolute worst.

When my body isn’t refusing to sleep, it’s passing out. Pots is kicking my arse. My latest fainting disaster resulted in two small fractures of my hand. The good news is that the bones are fast healing. The bad is that it is my walking stick hand and weight bearing is not easy. I’m feeling overwhelmed about how this is going to impact my mobility. Fingers crossed the predicted 3 weeks healing time is correct.

I might have to wear an ugly splint, but my nails look great.

Thankfully Bronan is always around for snuggles. A purring cat is a great stress reducer.

* Use my code Kerr50 for up to 80% off.

If you like what I do you can support me here or on Patreon.

Oh Mother…

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.

If you like what I do you can support me here or on on Patreon.

Mad Woman…

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.

If you like what I do you can support me here or on Patreon.

Something to talk about…

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.

If you like what I do you can support me here or on Patreon.

Humanitarian Crisis

January’s charity contribution was sadly a very obvious choice. The assault on the Palestinian people has continued despite even the intervention of the ICJ. The resulting humanitarian crisis is overwhelming.

Health care & residential infrastructure have been decimated. Most of the population are starving. Malnourished mothers are giving birth to babies who can survive only a few days. The scale of suffering is hard to comprehend. If you can please consider donating to one of these amazing organisations.

Unicef provide essential aid to combat disease, malnutrition & injury. They are focused on caring for the millions of children impacted in Gaza.

Medical Aid Palestine works for the health & dignity of Palestinians living under occupation. They desperately need help in providing urgent medical care and developing local capacity to ensure long term medical services.

Hakini is working to set up an emergency hotline for people in psychological distress. They provide specialised training for volunteers to support civilians & aid workers.

Stormy weather…

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

If you like what I do you can support me here or on Patreon.