Nourishing the Soul

As this is my first blog post in ages, hello! Combination of reasons which I’ll maybe touch on another time, but long story short the urge to write just came & it can never be ignored so here we are again.

This was inspired in particular by a twitter post from one of my favourite historians, Dr Janina Ramirez, who is a joy to watch on TV & follow online; she comes across to me as bright, passionate, quirky, kind, & beautifully her own person, & I admire her very much. Her post is below, I’ve also typed out the text in full for anyone using screen readers.

I’ve not been on twitter much. It’s a combination of things. Anxiety over the state of things. A Covid response & going more into myself. A loss of interest in promoting myself & thinking my own interests pale against the concerns of so many. But I still send you all love ❀️

Dr Janina Ramirez 28 August 2020 twitter

Basically what happened is I started writing a simple reply & realised I had thoughts. Lots of thoughts – In essence what I wanted to say to Janina was simply please do whatever you need to keep yourself as well as possible. It’s what we all should do. And if that means breaks from news or social media then of course that’s OK 😊 These are trying times for us all, when you are able to share lovely art it brings me & others joy, but I totally understand that has to be when it feels right to you & you have the mental energy & space to do so.

But I feel quite strongly that the second point Janina makes is a wider reaching conversation; namely “a loss of interest in promoting myself & thinking my own interests pale against the concerns of so many”. I’ve seen other people in the public eye (I hate the word celebrities), people who I believe are decent & kind people make similar comments over the past weeks & months. It’s totally understandable, 2020 has been a shitstorm of epic proportions & by direct comparison is sharing a piece of art or poetry or a song or a dance routine or a recipe or a fabulous cocktail important when held up against against Covid-19, BLM, or the state of Politics?? Definitely not, & at the same time Abso-fucking-lutely.

I believe when we stop feeding our souls we start to lose our humanity. When days are dark & times are troubled & we’re uncertain about tomorrow is exactly when we must make time to nourish the best part of ourselves, the part that can lose our eyes in a painting for hours, be it Picasso or Van Gogh. The part that allows music to transport us to far off times & places; poetry to allow us to feel empathy & connect; comedy to remind us to laugh & that life itself is often wonderfully silly; ballet where dancers take flight to tell stories with no words; history programmes that continue to investigate our past & allow us to learn & improve & have hope for our future.

Often it’s what might seem trivial in comparison to the “big stuff” that brings us our daily moments of joy & the strength to put one foot in front of the other & smile, if we can but pause to take the time to notice.

So to end, I would ask anyone, not just people with a large audience, when you feel able to please share your small stuff – the cakes you’ve baked, the photos you’ve snapped, the art you love, the stories you write & the music you rock to, & if it happens to be what you do for work please don’t apologise. If you bring even 10% of your viewers, readers & listeners a little joy & a smile to their day then I think that’s fantastic!

Namaste πŸ™ πŸ’™

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Whispering Darkness…

Some of you will be aware I write when I need to process. Never more necessary than this week.

I’m struggling right now, both physically & mentally. This is totally down to our disastrous current government. I make no apologies for being political when those very politics are affecting my physical & mental health.

I received notification in June/July this year that even though I had been previously awarded lifetime DLA (Disability Living Allowance) for my chronic & progressive conditions, due to govt changes to the benefit system – namely the introduction of the new PIP (Personal Independence Payment) benefit – I had to reapply. Yes, reapply.

You’d have thought the sensible thing to do for people with lifetime disability awards would be a simple transfer, but no. Reapply as if you’re a completely new claimant. There was an option to allow them to access your previous assessment records for DLA to support your claim – “if they are still available”. Yes, it appears the DWP may have failed to actually keep records properly. Who’d have guessed.

I want to be clear here before moving onto the effect this process is having on me personally – the only reason the govt have rolled out PIP is to get disabled people off benefits. It’s that simple & that barbaric. A UN report in 2017 “accused the Tories of creating a β€˜human catastrophe’ in the UK” which violates disabled people’s human rights, the text below is quoted from The Canary, the full article is available here

The UN are currently carrying out another investigation into UK poverty and the impact the current government has had on this, looking at key areas including these listed below – text again is from The Canary, full article is available here.

I kind of wanted to be clear on this – this is not me as a benefit claimant just being awkward or heaven forbid “ungrateful” – but a widely acknowledged truth. Disabled people are being disadvantaged by this government, the facts prove that. The United Nations knows it.

So, back to to this process. I had to call to apply after receiving the letter which was incredibly difficult for me – anything to do with benefit changes causes me severe anxiety – I was physically shaking when I rang, despite being prepared by Citizens Advice on what to expect so I had the information I needed right in front of me. It took a stomach churning twenty minutes. Just to ask for the form.

Once the form arrives in the post there is a four week deadline for completion. The earliest appointment Citizens Advice had was for almost six weeks away. So again I had to go through the ordeal of phoning, this time to request an extension which thankfully was granted.

I cannot begin to describe the vile process of completing that form, even with a trained & sympathetic advisor. I can’t write for any length of time myself because of the RA in my hands, so they had to complete the form for me. It’s invasive, incredibly personal & embarrassing. Answering questions on what medications you take, their side effects, how often you manage to wash yourself, use the toilet, leave the house, eat, get out of bed, the assistance you need but don’t get, and the intimate details of every symptom of your conditions & disability from bowel movements to insomnia, light sensitivity to Myoclonic Jerks.

The awful thing is on a daily basis you are mostly able to avoid thinking about the vastness & sheer weight of multiple conditions & symptoms alongside chronic unceasing pain, you simply deal hour by hour because that is manageable, mostly. This is like plunging into the abyss with your eyes taped wide open. It’s not an exaggeration to say it’s traumatic.

Every tiny personal detail of your life is discussed & transcribed, ready to be pored over by faceless strangers – without the requisite medical knowledge – but with the power to remove your income & your car & leave you destitute & housebound. Yes, it’s that f*cking huge.

So – my appointment with the lovely & very empathetic lady at Citizens Advice? Three hours. Three grueling & exhausting hours. And I wasn’t done yet.

It took me another two hours at home to go through, copy & annotate twenty-seven separate pieces of medical evidence going back about 18 months. Scan reports, surgical reports, consultants letters, radiography reports, it all went in there. This took me about three days.

So finally it all went into the post. I had a text on the the 8th August to say my form had been received.

I then heard nothing until Saturday 3rd November when a letter dropped through my door. Yes, just over twelve weeks, or 3 months. Every single day since August my anxiety has grown worse. My depression is also pressing at the edges of my consciousness, whispering of hardships & darkness. My GP is fully aware & we’re monitoring my mental health, the frustration is that we know the exact cause & have no power to remove it.

So the last couple of days I’ve basically gone turtle. I’ve retreated inside my shell, alternating between Netflix & reading depending on my ability to concentrate. The minute I stop either my thoughts are immediately back to this planned assessment. I feel dreadful as stress flares everything. Fortunately I have a wonderful friend who has agreed to be with me for the appointment which is incredibly helpful.

My next task which I couldn’t bring myself to do today is to call them & ask why they’ve not taken on board the request on the form from Citizens Advice & myself for a home visit, and see if its possible to change it. Honestly from what I’ve heard I’m not particularly hopeful.

Then I need to prepare, think of this as a job interview but twenty times worse. Its so easy with fatigue, anxiety & brain fog for me to use the wrong words, forget whole symptoms & conflate conditions. It’s basically a quiz about me where I can get the answers wrong much too easily. I’m terrified of this, and not without reason – so many horror stories of poor assessments are a matter of record.

One last note – DWP or whomever, if you’re reading this and thinking even for one second “well if she can write a blog that makes sense she can work” you are stunningly misinformed about what being chronically ill & disabled looks like.

This, as with many of my posts takes hours – but never all at once. Initial thoughts, a few notes, finding links, remembering what the hell I was talking about when I lose thread mid sentence, stopping for sleep or rest, editing, rechecking, a final read through to make sure I haven’t made a compete idiot of myself. It all takes precious time and energy spread out over days, to do something that when I was well I could have rattled off in ten minutes.

This is my reality, please simply believe me.

PS – for anyone who has bought into MSM (Main Stream Media)’s outright fairy tales about benefit fraud & demonisation of claimants – here’s the real deal from the government’s own data. A tiny 1.2% of benefit claims are fraudulent.

Like HMRC, the DWP also estimates fraud and error for its benefit payments. Its most recent estimate shows that overpayments to claimants in 2017/18 were Β£3.8bn, or 2.1% of its total bill. Of this, 1.2% (Β£2.1bn) of its Β£177.5bn budget was claimant fraud. Full article here.

A Question of Kindness…

An author I admire, Vironika Tugaleva, asked a question of her followers a while ago – the seemingly simple ‘What is the difference between being nice & being kind?’ I fired off a quick tweet in reply & promptly forgot about it – the transience of twitter!

My response, which was very off the cuff, was this – ‘I think being nice comes from conscious thought, whereas being kind is unconscious & authentic.’

You may understand the moment of sheer (if irrational) panic when she tweeted me back today, saying ‘That’s an interesting distinction. Do you think we need both?’

For a few seconds my brain just fizzled! “Why did I say that, I’ve never really thought about it, what did I actually mean, arghhh!” It was roughly the adult equivalent of sticking your hand up in class at school then realising you’d forgotten the question πŸ™ƒ

(This only lasted for an instant & I’m actually amused by my thinking. In some dim recess of my mind I’m still, like most of us, waiting for someone to stand up & shout “fraud!” whenever I put my thinking out for scrutiny. Do we ever lose that completely?).

Once I’d taken a breath & re-read my initial response, of course it made sense to me. I’d like to think at the grand but young age of 48 I’m consciously responsible for at least some of my thought process! So my response was thus:

“I’d say yes – for me I think being nice would be saying yes to giving someone a lift even while internally saying “damn that’s going out of my way”, while when being kind I would offer without any thought of inconvenience. Does that make sense?”

(Just realising that even then I’d ended on a plea for understanding, note to self, post with more confidence!)

For me I think both are equally important, especially in today’s hurly burly rush-rush world. I think when we’re on auto-pilot through the day it’s easy to forget to be kind. When you’re perhaps juggling the school run, breakfasts, & getting to work, & you’re already running behind the neighbour asking if you could drop her kids off too is an immediate irritant. It’s too easy to feel like saying ‘fgs can’t you see I’m busy’, & I think a societal expectation of nice or pleasant behavior kicks in & makes you say ‘yes of course, more the merrier’ instead of throwing your smoothie* at her children.

*please don’t try this at home!

On the other hand, when we’re able to slow down & breathe, when we’re living more mindfully, our internal priorities tend to be more aligned with our conscious behavior. And that’s when our innate kindness is to the fore, when we selflessly offer to help others without first weighing up costs to our time, our schedule or our own expectations of the day.

Because being kind is heartfelt & authentic behaviour, it makes us feel good too, because we’re sending a little seed of love & kindness out into the world where it can perhaps take root and grow. And that’s better for everyone.

Wishing you all a joyful week

Namaste πŸ™πŸ’™

Vironika’s latest book, The Art of Talking to Yourself, is a beautiful read, it’s currently sitting beside my bed & although I’ve not yet finished it I’d highly recommend you treat yourself to a copy – it’s food for the soul.

Somewhere to Retreat…

Hi there, apologies it’s been so long, between one thing & another I’ve struggled to find find the motivation to blog recently, mostly energy & concentration levels low due to ME, plus RA hitting my hips – you know the drill. But…. I wanted to post something about my most favourite place to be (apart from my sofa), & a tweet certainly wasn’t going to cover it. I suddenly realised I had something I wanted to say, so back to my blog at last!

Where to start? The short version is that my lovely friend Ian (pictured below), the owner of my local bar – The Retreat– celebrated 30 years in business this weekend, which is frankly amazing in today’s economy, & mostly down to the fact that they’ve consistently provided us with excellent food & drink, amazing staff & service & so much fun. Exactly what you want from your local, which coincidentally is 250 years old this year! 😊

I turned eighteen in 1988 which was the year The Retreat opened, and yes, I’ve been using it fairly regularly ever since! I’m still slightly stunned thirty years have actually gone by & I’m not completely sure where they went! I’m still only 27, right? 😁

Anyways… Why I am writing this here? Because particularly since I became chronically ill this place has been a literal as well as metaphorical lifeline for me, and it’s a massively important part of my support network, I’d go stir crazy without it.

It’s somewhere I try & visit two or three times a week depending on how I’m feeling. It’s somewhere that as a lone female & a disabled person I feel completely safe. Better than that, I feel loved. I get table service & have my own personal cappuccino mug 😍

Most of my friend network is based from here, The Retreat has always attracted a wonderfully eclectic crowd of people as regulars & long may this continue. Ian also employs some truly fabulous staff & I love them all dearly, they’re family.

Whether I drop in early lunchtime or later afternoon there is never not someone I can chat to. Sometimes after two or three days in bed you just need human contact, and this place is it for me, it always lifts me.

Because of meds it’s very rare I have alcohol these days, I haven’t drunk “properly” for over three years, but I’m still made totally welcome for my coffees or soft drinks. My wonderful GP is well aware I use the place & often checks in with me on appointments that I’m still getting out at least a couple of times a week – we both know how important that is for my mental health, it’s way too easy to become isolated when disabled.

Any good pub or bar is always a community hub, & The Retreat certainly fills that role beautifully, whether you need help with the crossword or to find a plumber this is definitely the place to be.

So, I absolutely wanted to be present as much as possible this weekend, and I managed both Saturday & Sunday afternoons. Evenings are unfortunately a bit beyond me. But I’ve spent time with some of my favourite people in my favourite place, & that’s what was important to me.

Have I come home and crashed? Horribly. Everything hurts, I’ve barely moved since I got home this afternoon & I’ll probably trade at least a few days for these two afternoons in a row. And you know what? It’s worth every bloody spoon I’ve used, pain included.

Because sometimes life has to be about more than illness & pacing & doctors & tests & meds. Friendships & love are so important, I treasure them & the joy they bring me.

I’ve said before this is my equivalent of the TV bar Cheers, “where everybody knows your name”. So I guess what I really want to say is not only Congratulations Ian, or “I bloody love this bar”, but mostly Thank you, for being my respite, my social life, my Retreat.

The Gift of Being Present

There’s a campaign which raises awareness for ME (Myalgic Encephalomyelitis) called #millionsmissing. There will be events around the country next week on May 12th, with many sending in shoes which are laid out in public areas to represent those who are unable to attend. Others will post online, anything we can to raise the public (and sadly medical) awareness of just how devasting ME is. Details can be found at:

http://millionsmissing.meaction.net/

In essence there are millions of us across the world who feel we are missing from our lives. Many are bed bound, some for years. I often thank the stars my ME isn’t quite that severe, although there are many days I’m unable to walk around or get dressed, let alone leave the house. I’ve made a pact with myself that I will try to see other humans twice a week, even if just for coffee and a short natter, because I spend so many hours at home, alone.

I’m a natural introvert who has always enjoyed my own company, even as a child, so thankfully I don’t often feel the loneliness of many. But it is incredibly hard to maintain friendships when even a phone conversation can be exhausting, and sometimes the thought of replying to a message feels about as doable as climbing mountains. So I keep my pact with myself as best as I can, and will do for as long as I can, we all need human contact and shared laughter is a beautiful medicine of it’s own.

Over the past few years I’ve missed weddings, birthdays, lunches, and have completely lost my once active social life in the evenings. It’s difficult sometimes when you know your social group is all together having fun and you are yet again laying down quietly to conserve the precious little energy you have.

But…!! Today I wasn’t missing. Today I made it to a friends annual wedding anniversary barbecue (first time in three years I’ve been able to go) and it was so, so lovely. The sun was even out which is miraculous for a British May Bank Holiday! I managed to find myself a seat in a corner in the shade, I treated myself to a rare alcoholic drink and enjoyed a heavenly Mojito, surrounded by friends, dancing children, chatter and laughter.

I left when things were still in full swing but that’s okay, I know even on better days not to push too much and it was starting to get a little louder which I struggle with (background noise can be draining).

So I’m home now, windows open, sun shining, listening to the birds tweeting on a quiet Sunday evening. And I’m incredibly grateful for today, for these few hours of sunshine and laughter with people I love.

As always, Namaste πŸ™πŸ’™

Emotional Eating…

I’ve been thinking today as I sorted out my sewing box (how many buttons?!) and my stationery box (how many pens?!) about the how’s and why’s of my relationship with food, and what lies behind it.

I don’t know anyone, overweight or underweight, who doesn’t have problems with emotional eating, and in some ways I think it’s the hardest thing to step away from. Unlike with heroin or crack or alcohol where one just abstains from the substance to deal with the addiction with food we can’t, we all have to eat to survive.

And these are deeply ingrained behavior patterns melded into our psyche as children then carried through to adulthood where they become a subconscious belief – the belief that certain foods make us ‘feel better’.

What do we do with a crying baby? Feed it. How do we cheer a toddler out of a mood? Food. What do we reward children with when they clear their plates? Sweet food. (two lots of issues there – we are all trained not to ‘waste’ food from an early age so we stop noticing when we’re full). What do we have as treats on special days, holy days, birthdays? Food, food & more food.

It’s no big shocker that we associate food with comfort more than anything else. When we eat that bar of chocolate or packet of biscuits we are unconsciously reaching back through time to our first feeds, when food also meant being held close, safe & loved, with no worries or cares. That’s a really strong pull, and in essence it’s what we’re fighting.

I don’t know what makes the difference between people who have a healthy relationship with food and those who don’t. People who can have two chocolates and put the box away for another time. Maybe it’s nurture, maybe nature. I’m sure the answer would be worth millions!!

But I do know my eating issues started in my early twenties, and I’ve had them ever since. I can look back at times when I was really happy and the weight fell off, and then sometimes when I thought I was happy and the weight was piling back on anyway.

For years I’ve watched furtively as slim people ate chocolate bars or ice cream and thought “well they can have them, why should I go without”. Yes they. They (the slim people) are obviously a race of aliens with incredible willpower. Except no. They simply view food as fuel, enjoyable fuel but without the emotional baggage we attach to our eating.

I don’t know what the answer is, but I do know what it isn’t for me. Diets. Shakes. Low Carb/fat/protein. Intermittent fasting. Atkins. Weight watchers. Banning sugar. Spending three mornings a week at the gym. Yes, I’ve done all of these plus others over the past twenty eight years. And I’ve lost weight. And on it has gone again because I haven’t tackled the cause. My mind.

So for me the change I make now has to be permanent, and yes, if that means I calorie count for the next twenty years so be it. Because I can’t be trusted not to. Interestingly I’m not finding this hard. Difficult yes, but not hard.

I’m rediscovering a love for fruit and salad and veggies cooked well with flavour. I’ve found a wonderful organic granola that has no added sugar or fruit and its gorgeous. I’m remembering to reach for grapes or a carrot or a rice cake if I’m peckish. I’m actually planning meals on the days that I can cook, and enjoying preparing them.

Believe me when I say I could happily ditch this tomorrow, go back to eating mostly crap and put weight back on in a heartbeat. But you know what? I want this more. I don’t want to have to use an extender on plane seat belts. I don’t want to keep looking for the sturdier chairs. I don’t want to keep wearing shapeless tunics because they ‘cover the bumps’. And I don’t want doctors to be less concerned about my symptoms because they look at me & see fat. I want to remove that excuse from their arsenal.

But most of all I want… Leather trousers, 50th birthday πŸ˜ŽπŸ‘–πŸ‘’πŸ’›

As always comments & opinions are my own and not a substitute for speaking with a medical professional