Book review (partial): You Can Heal Your Life, by Louise L. Hay

    Forgive my book review, I'm not used to this so it almost certainly won't take the form of conventional book reviews or ones you might be used to.  These are just my thoughts, probably very clumsily expressed.

    How I came to try this book was because I'm a big fan of The Tapping Solution app (consisting of Emotional Freedom Technique) and the creators incorporated ideas & affirmations from this author.
    So I therefore thought this book might be worth trying out.  I was wrong.

    For me, you see, it comes across as far too Christian.  I've a large degree of Christianity 'baggage' and it makes me very resistant to content which speaks of Christian ideas.
    So phrases such as "I am one with the very Power which created me" (as an affirmation), "The Universal Power Never Judges or Criticizes Us" and "knowing there is only One Intelligence in this Universe" just really put me off.

    I'm also very contrary, so I really resent assertions such as: "we are all 100% responsible for everything in our lives".
    These factors put me in a not-very-receptive frame of mind leafing through the book and starting in on chapter one.

    I even found myself annotating in the margins: "Is this a self help book?"; as the author states that we all have: "foolish, outmoded, negative ideas".
    The point is a valid one, but I felt it wasn't very sympathetically expressed, given that the author is meant to be this fount of compassion.

    The author also made some sweeping claims with no substantiation or evidence, such as: "All Disease Comes From a State of Unforgiveness" and "Resentment that is long held can eat away at the body and become the disease we call cancer" and "Criticism that is long held can often lead to arthritis in the body".
    I'm aware that research does in fact continue to affirm the theory of the mind-body connection, but the author cites none of this in this chapter of the book.
    Anecdotal evidence is still evidence, I guess, but the sample size is likely statistically insignificant - and none of the author's own research (if any were undertaken) is presented, not even as case study, in this first chapter.
    So it had me thinking, where's the evidence for these very specific observations?  There are reading recommendations at the back of the book, but there's no bibliography of sources from an evidentiary perspective.

    "I have found that forgiving and releasing resentment will dissolve even cancer."
    I'm sorry, no, that's potentially harmful advice in my view.

    Then there's the bit about how we all choose our own parents and when/how we get born i.e. we pick our own lives & circumstances.
    You want to tell readers who might have been through some really horrific things that they picked that life at their moment of conception?  No.  Just doesn't mesh with my own beliefs, and provokes irritation in me.
    So I hadn't even finished chapter 1 and I'm so resistant to the ideas being presented in this book.  I felt I had to continue reading, though, in order to write this book review.

    Chapter 2 began with lists of concerns the author's client's had presented to her during her practice.  Four paragraphs of same.  A page and a half, almost.
    For me, for a self-help book, that's too much dwelling on the negative.  I guess it might work for some readers, who maybe need to read through that stuff to identify with why the book could be helpful.

    I couldn't keep reading the book, not even to provide a full book review.  (In fact, I couldn't even gift it to someone or give it away 2nd hand.  I dismantled it to use as junk-journaling fodder.)

    So this isn't really a book review, it's a chapter and a half review.  Sorry.  But I just couldn't keep putting that stuff into my mind.

    In summary, you might get on better with this title than I if, say, you don't mind stuff with a bit of a Christian flavour and which isn't terribly science-backed.  If, say, you'd just like a few affirmations in print (actually, it that's what you want then you might want her other title Trust Life.
    But otherwise, I feel there are likely more helpful titles out there.  For example:  Why has Nobody Told Me This Before? by Dr Julie Smith, for one.

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A day in the life... Or, a collection of issues

    I wish I were an animator, as some of what I'd like to talk about would be much easier expressed in animation.  But alas I'm not.
    This isn't what I was planning to write about for my next post, but these are some things which have been playing on my mind increasingly of late.
    Also, this is not in fact a typical day in my life, so I probably should have titled this something different, but here we are.  I sort of just wanted to get down a list of things which I routinely experience.
    Finally, I can't imagine anyone will actually be interested to read this.  But then again, perhaps someone will, and perhaps even someone who's also suffering, and maybe they'll feel less alone as a result.

    I've written before about some of the issues I'm dealing with.  I suspect I've undiagnosed dyspraxia, or possibly ADHD.
    I've always been clumsy and excessively disorganized, with terrible balance (we've always joked that it's my tiny feet that cause me to teeter and fall down a lot, but that's not really what it is).
    I hadn't ever been able to learn sports or to dance or a musical instrument as a child because I just couldn't coordinate my digits/limbs sufficiently.
    I wasn't able to learn to drive as my brain couldn't translate all the manual skills into muscle memory, no matter how long I practiced.  
    I don't have a diagnosis (just generalised anxiety and depression, as things stand), but I've always experienced the symptoms of emotional dysregulation and rejection sensitive dysphoria.
    I also have physical ill-health, including a condition which leaves me tired all the time (and I have frequent dizzy spells).  Oh, and insomnia.

    Every day begins with a struggle to wake up and get up.  Every day.  Latterly I work from home and I thank the universe for it (and long may it last).  [I really don't know how I ever used to manage to get myself up, groomed (-ish, anyways), and commuted to work Mondays through Fridays.]  And then once I'm up I berate myself for not being able to get moving every morning.  Every morning.  And then I have to put my perceived failings to the back of my mind to try and work, or at the weekends to try and crack on with housework.
    Now and again someone will say something to me like: why don't you just get out of bed when your alarms first goes off?  Or, why don't you just go to bed a bit earlier?  I wish I could force those people to live in my world for just a single day.

    I spend my days reproaching myself for moving and acting like a 90 year old, when I'm half that age.  But when you can be hit with dizzy spells at any given moment (oh, and you're a clumsy bugger, too) you learn to move very deliberately.
    We no longer have glass drinking vessels in our home as I've smashed them all over time (not deliberately, or by throwing them or anything -- usually it's while doing the washing up, I'll drop them on one another, or smash them into something while turning to place a wet item to drain).  Instead, we have bamboo beakers.  I even managed to break one of those, once, so we're down to just 3 left out of a set of 4.
    Crockery gets smashed frequently as well.  Including the teapot which I'd inherited from my late mother-in-law.

    Although I mostly try to move very deliberately, I sometimes forget, or if other people are also moving around me I feel under pressure to go more quickly so as not to hold people up.
    That's usually when I'll fall, turn an ankle or bump my hips or thighs into something, leaving bruises, occasionally scratches.  Sometimes it's my arms that bump into doorhandles.  Sometimes it's my head.
    No, my spouse doesn't hurt me, he's not that type of guy.  In my case, I really did walk into a door, or some shit.

    I also lose things.  Gloves on buses, hats on trains, umbrellas in shops.  Not it isn't a Dr Seuss rhyme, it's my life.  Wallets at least every other year (I've given up on replacing all the cards, so now I do without loyalty cards -- even though we could honestly do with the discounts etc.)
    Keys and phones... [Frantically touching wood!]  I've managed not to outright lose these in some years now, but they're frequently mislaid around the home and even outside of it, like on the lawn.  I use Google to ring my phone at least once per day lately (I can't just ring it from the house phone, as I never remember to put the ringer back on in a morning after it's been on silent overnight.  Worse still, sometimes the battery is flat because I forgot to charge it!)

    In a morning I'm meant to leave up to 4 hours between taking my medication and eating, as some foods interfere with the absorption of my synthetic thyroxine.  (That's IF I remember to take my medication when I wake up in the morning, which is getting increasingly rare.)
    I used to struggle with this interval, as if I don't eat within about an hour of waking I can get really nauseous.  Latterly, though, I've been managing to do it (most days), and I'm doing intermittent fasting (because I feel like I've tried everything else).
    But my hyperfocus then means that once I get started on work I don't remember to eat anything.  For hours.
    I frequently take my 20 minute lunch break somewhere between 15:00 and 16:00 (sometimes even later).  This isn't ideal, as I can sometimes get light-headed without any food intake.  I can also get irritable, too.
    I also don't remember to drink enough fluids, and I can end up fractionally dehydrated.
    I don't take screen breaks, and by mid-afternoon my eyes are so badly strained I'm struggling to keep them open to keep looking at my screen, in fact they outright hurt (and sometimes I get headaches).

    Part of my role at work includes a level of customer service.  My neurodivergence [whatever flavour it turns out to be] means that my mind works in a very particular way.  Receiving phone calls and Teams messages scattered throughout my day interrupts destroys my focus to a disproportionate degree.
    It's been known for me to discard a piece of work I've spent 45 minutes on following a series of interruptions, because it just seems easier to start again from scratch rather than try to get back to where I was.
    Again, I don't know how I used to cope when we were working in an office.  Actually, I do.  I recall having to retreat to the toilet cubicle multiple times throughout the day, not because of a need to pee but rather because I needed to reset.  I wore earplugs -not earbuds, actual earplugs- wherever possible due to the chatter of colleagues which continually split disrupted my focus.
    Even working from home, I sometimes have days when I have such a long string of interruptions that it just somehow throws a spanner in my brain and at a certain point my brain just shuts pretty much down.
    I simply can't get my nervous system to reset, and calm down, and settle back into some work.  Those days, I have to just admit defeat, give up on whatever I was planning to do, or working on, and just do some really light & undemanding work the rest of that day, such as tickbox exercises.

    I structure my work week very heavily, because it's what I've found works best over the years.  But those neural pathways are so ingrained, now, that if I have to do something different on a given day than what I'd usually be doing -say, because of a deadline- then I struggle significantly.
    Sometimes I simply cannot drag my thought processes from what I'd usually be doing that day.  I'll try to do it, but my mind just keeps going repeatedly back to whatever it knows I "should" be doing that day, and won't focus on the other thing.
    I think I'm perceived as rude, because if someone is trying to speak to me while I'm in the middle of doing something I struggle -again- to tear my mind from what I'm doing to what they're saying.
    It's been known for me to turn my head in the direction of the person speaking, but with my eyes still firmly on my monitor screen, like some sort of a cartoon character!

    When I'm stressed or overwhelmed, my cognitive function becomes impaired (or, rather, more impaired than usual).  I can stare at a screen or at a set of closed kitchen cupboard doors for a disproportionate length of time, because I just can't seem to force my brain to fathom out what steps I need to be performing.
    This worries me, because I recall when I did Dementia Friend training, one of the examples they discussed was difficulty with the steps to make a cup of tea.  I frequently have difficulty with the steps to make a cup of tea?  Do I, therefore, have early onset dementia?!

    My motor skills develop what I think of as a sort of 'stutter'.  I'll start to reach out with my hand, stop and draw my hand back, and then repeat this action over and over multiple times.
    Or I'll stand up and start to walk in a direction, only to start to walk in the opposite direction after half a step because I've thought of something else.  And then back the first direction again, and so on & so forth.
    We joke that I'm like a video game character that has developed a glitch.  But although I make light of it sometimes, it upsets me deep down and I get frustrated with myself.
    The stuttering hand thing worries me sometimes, especially during cooking - sharp knives, hot pans etc and a wildly stuttering hand: not a great combination.  Not that I can manage to cook often as I'm not a natural chef or someone who finds it enjoyable.  Instead, it stresses me and is guaranteed to provoke concerning occurrences.

    I get a level of verbal aphasia when I'm stressed or sleep-deprived.  Or rather, historically, I used to get it when I was stressed or sleep-deprived.  Latterly, it is happening on a daily basis.
    I frequently use the wrong words for things.  I'm usually aware that I've done it after the fact (as far as I know, anyway!)  Often the word I've used by mistake is similar.  For example, I might say washing machine when what I meant was dishwasher.
    Other times, I simply seem to stall part way through speaking a sentence.  I might make a ridiculous noise, like a grunt or growl, when I realise I can't seem to force the end of the sentence out.
    We often laugh about it, but then there have been other times when I've become so frustrated with myself that I've literally slapped my own face, hard.
    This symptom is another thing which worries me.  I'm sure I probably haven't suffered a mini-stroke or something without knowing it, but I can't help but worry.

    Out of sight is out of mind, so -for example- documentation which comes through the post and gets put down on a pile gets forgotten about and never actioned.  Even if it's important.  Even if it's legal documentation.
    It's not unusual for me to take a year or even eighteen months to get around to a task.  Which -you can imagine- often creates problems.
    For example, a faulty product which needs returned within 28 days.  It won't get returned, and now we've got a defunct piece of clutter laying around our place.
    And I can't part with said thing because it cost money.  Maybe someone at the repair cafe can do something with it?  Ha! Maybe so, IF I ever got around to actually showing up on the day it's taking place in my area (or any area, actually).
    My family and friends all think I'm really thoughtless as I never remember birthdays or anniversaries.

    And then sometimes out of the blue I'll get some new and weird symptom.  Like last night, when I unexpectedly experienced an instance of trypophobia for the first time ever.  And then I inexplicably laid in bed awake for hours -hours- trying to think of any and all objects in our home with clusters of little holes (there are almost none -- and anyway, why did my mind want to catalogue such things if it was feeling uncomfortable about similar ones?  See, weird.).

    I know I'll probably obsess about the above post for the rest of tonight, including overnight (for whatever weird reason).
    My mind will be trying to think of other things which I wished I'd included in the above account (I'm sure there'll be some).  Not that it matters, this is meant to be a bit of a flavour, not an exhaustive autobiographical volume of War and Peace or something.  But my mind is a law unto itself.
    My family thought it amusing when I recounted my efforts to count sheep to combat insomnia, but my sheep wouldn't behave themselves and balked & ran riot instead.  And I get that the anecdote is amusing.  But it is, in fact, also my life.

Ah, well.

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Research your therapy type

 

    I've been trying to come at this blog post for a little bit now, so I hope this reads clearly.

    The key message is: research your therapy type (you'd never have guessed, would you?).

    The reason I say this is based on my personal journey.  In my early 20s I was sent to Cognitive Behaviour Therapy for generalised anxiety disorder (although I'm not certain that diagnosis necessarily existed in those terms back then).

    I didn't get on with CBT -- so much so that I felt it was making my anxiety worse.  So I stopped attending.

    I will admit, I only gave it 2 sessions, which isn't necessarily long enough to know if you'll ultimately get on with something or not.  (I wrote about this in a previous blog post here.)

    But back then the therapist didn't take the trouble to explain CBT or how it worked.  I'm not an expert and -neither have I done any research- (so I could be entirely wrong), but my feeling now looking back is: CBT was fairly new, and the practitioner I was sent to still harkened back to psychotherapy type approaches.  (Think Freud and the like saying: "how was your relationship with your mother?")

    And what was delivered to me in those 2 sessions was the worst of both worlds.  It was neither a humanistic talking therapy/counselling -which is what I thought I wanted at that time- nor was it fully realized CBT.

    I've since been referred for CBT again for both depression secondary to chronic fatigue (Behavioural Activation) and for the GAD again, a year or 2 ago.

    This time, once again, the practitioners still didn't take the time to help me understand CBT.  And I still had my previous bad experience colouring my attitudes.

    So this go around the BA practitioner did her best, even gave me a couple of extra sessions, but it didn't help.  And the CBT one gave up on trying to use CBT techniques fully with me.  It gave me a bit of an easy 'out' from doing the work at that time, but equally it meant that those 6 sessions were a bit of a waste of time for both of us.

    What has changed my opinion is a self-help book I bought called Why Has Nobody Told Me This Before by Dr Julie Smith.  (Look out for a book review I think I'll probably write in due course.)

    The book basically seems to contain CBT techniques (I say 'seems' as I'm only up to around chapter 4 as I write this).  The difference is, Dr Smith takes the time in the pages to explain why the techniques work.  That's it.  No terribly highfalutin science.  Just a compassionately written, very readable how-to guide.

    It almost seems too simple to be true, in many respects.  Very straightforward to comprehend.

    AND I've been using the first few techniques, AND they're working for me.  (They're somewhat less simple to use habitually than to read up on, of course.  But if working on one's self was that easy we could all be totally mentally healthy overnight -- if only!  And that word I used there -habitually- is a pretty key one.)

    Anyway, with that wonderful benefit: hindsight, I wondered whether CBT could have helped me sooner, had I understood from the outset how it's supposed to work?  (Being charitable, it's possible it might not have, because it's possible I simply wasn't ready at the time.  We'll never know.)

    In conclusion, I want to recommend that anyone going for therapy research what type you're going to be getting, whether you're paying privately and have the luxury of shopping around, or taking what you can get on the NHS/via your insurance.  It may well be helpful in how successful your treatment is.

    This could be as simple as asking the practitioner to outline their approach for you in your initial consultation with them.  (And if their initial explanation doesn't do it for you, keep asking until you feel comfortable, or ask if they have any literature they can point you to.)

    I feel like this YouTube video from Kati Morton's channel gives a good -and brief- overview of CBT, if you're looking for a place to start.  Additionally, the British Association for Counselling and Psychotherapy provides an A-Z list of therapy types on their website, here.

    Finally, if you're someone who'd struggle to access mental health services for any reason, I've included some resources (in the UK, unless marked with*) which you might like to look at as a starting point (but -ideally- not a substitute -- please prioritize your mental health, everyone).

    These are below (as hyperlinks, in case that isn't clear in your browser):

 

• Apps for self-care posts: post 1 (from June 2020) and post 2 (from January 2022)* [=shameless self-promotion]
• CIMHS/Bliss Free Online Therapy for Depression free short course*
• Crappy Childhood Fairy Daily Practice free short course*
• Every Mind Matters - NHS
• Gardening 4 Health – A Directory of Social and Therapeutic Horticulture in the UK
• Getselfhelp.co.uk
• Meditainment | Guided meditation and visualization
• Meditation - HelpGuide.org
• Mental wellbeing audio guides - NHS
• Mindful Art Club – Coffee, Creativity, Company.
• Overcoming Apps
• Self-Administered EMDR (Is it A Good Idea For You?) - YouTube*
• 7 Cups* (?)
• 750words.com -- daily writing habit site
• Side by Side | A community platform by Mind
• Singa Karaoke (*?) (do an internet search for: singing for stress relief if you don't believe me!)
• The Forest Bathing Institute
• Therapy in a Nutshell | How to Process Your Emotions - YouTube*
• Wellbeing Support | Activities & ideas | British Red Cross
• Wysa - Everyday Mental Health app* (?)

Almost all of the above require internet access, at least initially, so if you don't have this you may also want to be aware of your local library service: Local library services - GOV.UK (www.gov.uk)

Podcasts I recommend, too:

• Feel Better Live More
• Huberman Lab
• Self Care Is Sexy
• Very Well Mind

(I use Google Podcasts.)

I previously recommended The Doctor's Farmacy from Mark Hyman, and I do still believe it to be an informative resource, but I feel it's more for those who want to gain a very in depth understanding of functional medicine, whereas the above podcasts are a bit more general and therefore accessible.

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Talking about mental health

    I'm doing an online course about mental health and I thought I'd write more openly than before about my own mental ill-health matters.

    I've always had anxiety, since I was quite a small child. The first and most striking incident with this occurred when I moved up from primary to secondary school, and it became an expectation that I'd do homework every day.

    It felt utterly overwhelming, how was I going to cope with this? I cried hysterically and wound myself up into a panic attack that first evening.
    My parents didn't know how to deal with me and sympathised a bit but then ultimately told me to pull myself together.

    After that I 'dealt with it' by sticking my head in the proverbial sand, and pretending homework was only happening to other people.
    I'd put in the bare minimum of effort when I absolutely had to, when there was simply no chance of getting away with an "I forgot" type of excuse.
    I'd cobble together essays in the morning break to hand in at afternoon classes. My one and only detention was for failure to hand in homework.

    I'd continue this pattern into early adulthood, going off to university and failing to pay my rent or bills until the landlord was standing right in front of me making their demands, or the mail order catalogue company were threatening to take me to court, or whatever.
    I'd leave my assignments until the last minute and then pull all-nighters to get them handed in by the deadlines. Not good coping strategies, but I guess they'd become habitual.

    Bookend my formal education with another panic attack which sticks in the mind. It was just prior to sitting an exam, and one of the exam invigilators very kindly told me to suck it up because I was upsetting everyone else in the exam room.

    After I graduated university, the anxiety threatened to become worse. Facing interviews for jobs I didn't really want (but since my degree didn't really qualify me for anything in particular I needed to find something), I became more insecure still.

    It reached a point where I didn't even have the confidence to walk into a corner store and make a purchase.
    I was doing voluntary work and one of the aforementioned jobs tried to call to offer me the paid position, but I pretended to have passed out in a bathroom because I was so terrified of taking the phone call.

    I was referred to the department of psychiatry and attended approximately two sessions -whether with a psychologist or what I can't recall- of CBT. I couldn't get along with that form of therapy (see below re alexithymia) and instead it made me feel yet more anxious and unworthy still, so I stopped going.

    I've also always suffered with paranoia. Not large scale the-government's-out-to-get-me paranoia, but small scale those-people-over-there-are-definitely-talking-about-me paranoia.
    As a small child I can recall my mother repeatedly reassuring me that I did indeed have friends (numerous of them) and they did indeed really like me, else why would they play with me on a daily basis otherwise?
    To this day, when I'm suffering with my mental health I'll find myself thinking that my boss doesn't like me and must surely be trying to find a way to give me the elbow.

    I've a doctor diagnosed health phobia (I still suspect that somewhere in my notes the word hypochondriac is written, but what can you do?).
    I'm doing better with this latterly, but having had a couple of relatives pass away from cancer in my teens, I tend to panic whenever there's a symptom -for either myself, a loved one or a pet- which could be an indicator of some kind of cancer, such as a lump.
    I even went to A&E once when a dramatic sunburn caused one of my lymph nodes in my neck to swell up.

    I suspect I've mild personality disorder of some sort, although I've never pin-pointed exactly which one I think it might be. (It's not narcisistic personality disorder or socio/psychopathy, of that I'm sure). Emotional dysregulation, at the very least. It manifests in my being extremely reactive and being largely unable to keep my emotions on an even keel when something happens in my life. For example, arguments can quickly blow out of proportion.

    And then I settled down with a partner who has chronic depression, developed a chronic physical health condition which leaves me fatigued all the time and experienced long-term stress at work through bullying by a superior. Enter, depression.

    I've days when I can't motivate myself to get off the sofa and do anything. Anything at all.
    I'm more fortunate than some, because I tend not to suffer with distressing thoughts such as 'I'm not good enough' (although I've definitely had 'no-one likes me' at times in the past - see above re paranoia).
    And my depressive episodes tend to last just a day or so (sometimes only a partial day) rather than a span of days or even weeks.
    But living with someone with chronic depression, as I do, I'm acutely aware of the impact it can have on a person, and on those around them.

    Oh, wait -- is insomnia a physical health condition or a mental health one? Well, either way I have that too. I suspect it could be caused by something physical, often, such as hormones. But it can impact all the other matters mentioned above and it's no fun whatsoever.
    It seems to be a bit treatment-resistant too in my case, as I swear I've tried almost everything (even a soporific medication at one stage, which didn't work, had unpleasant side effects and can only be taken short term due to being habit forming).

    I also suspect I've undiagnosed dyspraxia, which is neurodevelopmental.
    And finally, I think I've a degree of alexithymia. Which isn't necessarily a mental health condition either, but -being defined (by Google*) as: the inability to recognize or describe one's own emotions- I should think you can imagine how it might compound a lot of the above mentioned issues.

*Because I'm lazy.

    My next post, in about a week or so (promise!), will contain a bunch more resources for mental health so keep a look out for that.
    Meantime, I've included a short list of website resources at the end, here.

Take care of yourselves, everyone.

Resources

Websites (UK)

• CALM (Campaign Against Living Miserably)
• NHS.uk
• Mental Health Foundation
• Mind
  
• We are Rethink Mental Illness
• Samaritans

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Why I didn't #MeToo at the time (content warning)

    If you've been living under a rock and don't know what #MeToo refers to, here's some background info on the movement.  I urge you to read the first line of the article, if nothing else.

    I am supportive of this movement, and I stand in solidarity with fellow sexual assault sufferers*.

    But I chose not to go public at the time with posting #MeToo on social media.  I regret that now.  I wish that I'd at least put a Facebook post with a custom selected audience, omitting my family.

    I also feel that it'd be too late, now, to be meaningful.  So it's possible I'll never go public (or at least, no more public than this blog post, anyways).

    So, why didn't I?

    At the time, I told myself that it was to protect my family from the fact of my sexual assault(s).  I'd never told them when it occurred, you see.  As a family of highly sensitive people, they'd find the knowledge incredibly distressing.  They'd likely blame themselves somewhat, too.  So, I kept it to myself and found my own way(s) of dealing with it.

    In many ways, it was also -somehow- easier for me that my family didn't know.  It meant I didn't have to deal with their reactions to what I'd gone through.  Is that weird?  I don't know.

    The context of my sexual assault was one of an abusive relationship, you see, and I was still stuck in that situation at the time.  My lizard-brain knew I needed to focus my energies on surviving, and didn't have any to spare for worrying about others.

    You might argue that perhaps my family could've helped me jettison that relationship, sooner, had I shared my suffering with them.  But domestic abuse is really, really complicated, so at the time I wasn't seeing it that way.  And I feel no shame for that.

    Now, looking back, I'm not sure whether there's an element of shame still wrapped up in why I didn't #MeToo, though.

    Shame, as I'm sure most people are aware, is a common reaction of sexual assault sufferers.

    Maybe I didn't want others to know I was a past sufferer because -subconsciously- I didn't want them to see me the way I'd seen myself for so long?  As something shameful.  Again, I don't really know the answer to that.  But, it just seemed preferable to me to preserve my pre-assault identity in the eyes of others.

    I'm not a psychologist.  So I don't really know all the reasons.  If I someday gain any more insight in the future I'll do a further blog post.  I'm in a good place, though, so it's possible it won't even occur to me.  (I hope that helps someone, someday, to see that it's possible to be in a good place post-sexual assault.)

    I am proud of all the other sexual assault sufferers who did post #MeToo.  I felt that the movement itself had enough momentum without my voice added to it.

    But if the point of #MeToo was to publicise the numbers of sufferers, and I stayed quiet?  How many other people did the same?  Do we still not fully know the scale of the thing?  That seems likely.

    I don't have the answers how to tackle that, societally.  Sometimes I feel as though we're becoming increasingly woke -- the teens seem to be getting there, whenever I hear groups of them talking amongst themselves.  Then, other times, I remember Trump, and the damage he (et al) did, and how he (et al) normalised bigotry.  Such a lot of good was undone in such a short time.

    A small, small ray of light to end on:  I feel much more comfortable challenging inappropriate jokes and comments, these days.  That's something.  That's a start.

*I prefer the phrase 'sufferer', and in specific 'past sufferer'.  'Victim' is often seen as an undesirable phrase, for reasons which I feel are likely fairly common knowledge.  But for me, 'survivor' also carries with it connotations that that's all you are in the aftermath of sexual assault.  A survivor of it, nothing more.  It becomes a defining feature, and I resent that.  Yes, 'survivor' is more positive than 'victim' in many ways.  But -for me- 'sufferer' is preferable.  It reflects that sexual assault is something I went through, a bit like an illness, and it doesn't define me.  I suffered it, a bit like a broken limb which has since healed.  'Sufferer' also reflects that whilst I'm still here -surviving and mostly thriving- there are still residual impacts.  Like a broken limb which, though healed, still aches when it rains.  I'm a past sexual assault sufferer.  But I also respect peoples' right to use the terminology which feels right to them.

Resources:
~ Mental Health Foundation
~ Mind
~ Rape Crisis
~ Rape and Sexual Abuse Counselling Centre
~ Samaritans
~ 24 7 Sexual Abuse Support
(Note that these are UK based resources, but I'm certain that similar sites likely exist in most countries.  Please do a web search if you're in need of support and you're not in the UK.)

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Henna! (For the hair)

    A few years ago grey hairs started cropping up and before long there were too many to pluck whilst pretending it wasn't happening!  I was bemoaning this fact while hanging out in the Discord associated with The Cauldron.  And then someone recommended henna.

    So I henna'd my hair.  And have never looked back.  Here's why:

- I love the colour (a good start!)

    I went for red because I always fancied myself as a bit of a redhead.  My hair used to have a slightly ginger sheen in certain lights.  As a child I'd been blond, but my hair colour has latterly darkened to a really dull light-ish brown.  (And you couldn't really glimpse that hint of ginger any more.)  So the henna is a definite improvement.
I didn't know it when I started buying henna, but you can also get a brown (and I believe also a black).

- It makes my hair shine!

    In fact, not only does it make my hair shine but I find I don't need to use conditioner.  So it saves me a step in the shower.  (And as a spoonie that's a really great point in the favour of henna.)

- It's not a chemical dye
    Well obviously every substance has its own chemical compound, but I'm sure you get what I mean.  I never used chemical dyes on my hair, and this way I can claim that's still true!

- I love the smell!
    It makes me smell like a hippy - I feel an authentic New Ager when I'm fully henna'd and yet I don't need to reach for the patchouli.  But seriously, full disclosure, it does have a distinctive, sort of organic-y odour.

- I'm told it protects the hair

    Apparently, it works by sort of lacquering the individual hairs and giving them a level of protection from e.g. splitting.  (It's the reason your hair can't take chemical dyes after henna-ing, apparently.)
    And as someone with very long hair which is my proudest feature (and one of the things my spouse loves about me) but easily tangled, I'm keen to protect my tresses.
    (I haven't done my due diligence, but anecdotally I believe this to be true - my hair is easier to brush, even without conditioner.  I realise this is only a sample size of two, but it's good enough for me.  And again, as a spoonie, anything that makes my hair easier to care for is a good thing.)

- It doesn't wash out or fade much
    The colour fades a little bit, but it definitely doesn't go that washed out shade that people seem to get with the brightly coloured chemical dyes, e.g. the blues and pinks etc. (Of course it could just be that my hair has always been very porous, I'm not sure.) 

    There are some cons, just so you know:-

- It's admittedly messy and time-consuming to apply (but rinsing isn't too much of an issue);
- The grey hairs go a bright orange colour!
- Recommend devoting a specific, preferably dark-coloured towel to your hair after you start henna-ing it;
- Be aware you can't dye your hair with chemical dye after henna-ing it (you'd need to henna it a darker colour, or I guess you could try using harsh stuff like citric acid to try to remove the henna first - not recommended, just let it grow out);
- And of course you might not like the smell.

    I'm calling this a chronic ill-health life hack, because I genuinely find it so.  I can get away without conditioning and yet my hair is easier to brush & care for, as mentioned.  On top of that, all the compliments I received on the colour did wonders for my self-esteem!  😀

All photos from Unsplash

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Why do I celebrate Christmas?

Why, as a pagan, do I celebrate Christmas?

    The main reason for celebrating Christmas is, it's a time for getting together with family.  I can (Covid allowing) get together with family any time, of course.  But Christmas is the one time it's guaranteed to happen.

   

    I might be 'flaky' much of the rest of the year.  Or not get around to making plans.  (Much like most of my family members, too.)  My family (though not a million miles away by any means) are just far enough away to make it a bit of a trek.  Rather than just popping around for a cuppa.  So it tends to get put off.

    Around Christmas we'll always get together no matter what, however.  (Except for the first year of the pandemic.)

    I do also decorate for Christmas.  Partly it's because my spouse doesn't share my paganism.  So he still wants the place decorated for Christmas.  (Well, actually he could probably skip decorating altogether.  But if we're going to decorate, he wants it to be Christmas themed.)

    It's nice in the dreary winter to have a period of festive decorations to brighten up the place.  And for me it provides a bit of a magical atmosphere (much of which probably comes from nostalgia).

    Then when the decorations come down in early January there's a feeling of freshness.  It feels nice and uncluttered when all the bits and bobs get put away.

    Speaking of nostalgia, that's another big reason for celebrating Christmas.  I just loved Christmas time as a kid, it felt really magical.  I never really resonated with the Christian roots of Christmas, of course.  But as we all know these days you can pick and choose which elements of Christmas you include or not.  (Some will disagree, and they're obviously entitled to their own opinions.)

    Magical themes feature heavily on TV around Christmas, in contrast with other times of the year.  When I was small there used to be a float which drove around the streets of my town with 'Santa' aboard.  He'd distribute sweets to all the kids at their doorsteps and it was enthralling.  Fairy lights give a cozy atmosphere, and my sibling & I were each given a set for our rooms.  Together with a little tinselly Christmas tree, about a foot high.  The lights twinkled off the mini tree at nights.  It was like having my own fairy grotto in my room or something.

    Decorating & doing all the other celebratory Christmas things as an adult, it evokes those nostalgic childhood memories for me.

    Oddly, Christmas time was the first point I can recall learning of the existence of paganism, too.  I was probably about 7 or 8 years old.  And we learned in school that there'd been religions prior to Christianity.  Also that vestiges of the same were secreted away here and there if you knew where to look.  I think it was suggested that the song The Holly and the Ivy harkened back to pre-Christian times in some of its wording.

    And something seemed to slot into place for me, staying with me ever since.

    It's difficult to put into words.  It's just a feeling deep within.  It resonated.

    If I'm ever able to articulate it any better than that I'll write another blog post on it.

    But in a nutshell, those are the major reasons why I celebrate Christmas even though I'm a pagan.

All photos from Unsplash

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Gratitude practice - my issues with it, and my alternative: 'little joys' practice

    I’ll bet you’re familiar with the suggestion to keep a gratitude journal.  Or to list 3 things you’re grateful for each day.

    I keep seeing it recommended here and there, still.

    I tried it for several weeks, maybe it was even as much as couple of months (I can’t recall).  I really did try to persevere with it.

    And for me it just didn’t have the desired effect.  Far from being helpful, it was actually potentially harmful.

    The issue I’ve got with it was that I was ‘scratching’ around for things to list.

    So it made me feel that I didn’t have things to be grateful for.

    I do, of course.  But I felt a bit ridiculous writing down things like “Grateful I’ve got a roof over my head”.  Or “I’ve got a significant other”.

    And I felt some weird pressure not to repeat things.  So having written “grateful for my cats” one day, I felt I couldn’t repeat that same thing on another day.  Or I’d be writing the same thing each day for weeks, and what’d be the point in that?

    Also, my brain would do a thing where it’d ‘poke holes’ in its own suggestions for things to write.

    So, while I am indeed grateful I’ve got a roof over my head, another bit of my brain would throw up this sort of thing:  yeah, but it’s filled with mould and other issues & the rent is nevertheless exorbitant!

    Therefore it felt as though I wasn’t doing gratitude practice ‘properly’.  Or that this poking holes business was detracting, potentially making the entire thing more detrimental than helpful.  It was focusing my mind on the negative, rather than the positive.  The exact opposite of what it’s meant to do, I believe?

    And it wasn't that I was going through an especially difficult time when I tried this.  Nor do I feel that it’s because I’m an entirely negative person, or something.  (This is possibly an entire separate post in its own right.)  I can be ‘glass half empty’, definitely; but I can also be ‘glass half full’.

    Having to wrack my brains for something from earlier that day for which to be grateful?  It was uncomfortable, unpleasant even.  And it didn’t seem to be getting any easier as time went on.  It wasn’t a case of practice makes perfect.  Not for me.  In fact, the pressure not to repeat stuff was making it harder as time went on.

    So for me it felt right to stop.

    I’m sure it works for some folk, and is helpful.  And perhaps there’s even a different way of approaching this which might work better for me.  (Recording things as they happen or occur to me might work, if I could do it that way.  Sitting in front of a blank journal page at the end of the day and struggling to write on it does not.)

    I've said this before about goals, and I'll say it again now.  I'm not ashamed of quitting, nor feel it's a failure.  I believe it's that all our minds work differently.  And if I feel something is a chore, without anything constructive to offer me, it makes sense to stop it.  (Sadly, I do have to keep cleaning our home, so I guess I'll focus my energy there instead!)

A minor point to finish on, and a possible alternative to gratitude practice for me (and maybe for you).  This YouTuber, Hannah May, brought it to my attention in one of her series of 'resident sicko' videos (her term, not mine).  I think she calls it 'joy of the day' (timestamp: 21:20).

    I feel joy of the day is something I could really pick up and run with.  It's likely that a little something will catch my attention in a day, and strike me as a little joy.  (I don't necessarily have someone I'll message them to right now like Hannah does, but that doesn't have to deter me from mentally noting these moments.)

All photos from Unsplash

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