Next steps

Something very exciting is going on in my life. After 3+ years of illness and recuperation time, I'm finally well enough to go back to studying. I'm applying to do a PhD in Counselling Psychology. To start this September! (Arrrggghhh!)
Of course I have all the predictable nerves; will I get an interview? If I get that far, will they allow me onto the course? If I make it onto the course, can I cope with the workload? And so on and so on.
It feels like the right thing to do. It's the culmination of my last 10 years in education, training and work. At the moment I'm busy putting my application together, writing my personal statement and scanning loads of documents to prove I meet the entry requirements. 
I'll keep you posted as to how I get on! 

Think yourself happy?

Anyone who knows me will tell you I'm an optimistic person. I tend to look on the bright side. You might think, then, that I'd be a fan of 'the power of positivity.' Not so much. Here are a few thoughts as to why. 

I recently found some paperwork from one of my hospital stays. It was something called the 'Recovery Star.' One arm of the star was optimistically titled "trust and hope." One line in particular stood out. It said : "think happy thoughts!" So there I was, clinically depressed in hospital, exhorting myself to think like a happy person. "Was this really the right approach?" I asked myself. 

You see, to me, "think happy thoughts" is synonymous with the idea that we should be 'battling,' 'fighting' or 'striving to overcome' adversity in health. The same language seems to be used whether that adversity is cancer or depression, to name but two. Yet this kind of thinking isn't applied to all health issues. You don't hear about positive thinking mending a broken leg, do you? 

Encouraging people to 'think themselves happy' implies that we have a choice and suggests we could rise above depression, if only we employed a bit of positive thinking. I am yet to meet a person with depression who would agree with this statement. Surely, if this were true, there would be no such thing as depression in the first place. To imply choice in response to trauma and distress suggests a distinct lack of understanding when it comes to human suffering. 

Telling ourselves to think positively when we feel the absolute opposite actively encourages us to be incongruent. It encourages us to push down the reality of how badly we feel, when doing so is perhaps one of the reasons we feel so terrible in the first place.  

To me, 'think yourself happy' veers dangerously close to 'pull yourself together' territory. It puts the responsibility for wellness (or conversely, illness) in the hands of the very person who's suffering, as though a person's own 'faulty cognitions' are the very reason why they are struggling. Guilt about being unable to think themselves happy is unlikely to help any person in distress. And when we aren't able to harness the power of positive thought, when our distress or trauma is so deep that no amount of positive thinking helps, have we "failed?" Similar to patients who are said to have "lost their battle" with cancer, have people with depression who fail to 'think happy' lost their battle? What hope for them then? 

People hurt. Terrible things happen. To respond from a place of pain is a perfectly legitimate response. Privileging an "I've got over it, so can you" narrative is arguably a way of de-legitimising people's understandable pain and suffering, a way of seeking to erase it from existence. Perhaps this is because we are so uncomfortable with others' pain? 

I'm not for one moment suggesting that sadness is good, that there is nobility in suffering. I'm simply saying that sadness, grief, trauma and despair are all part of the human condition. It's not for others to tell us to 'think ourselves happy' and maybe we could think about giving ourselves a break when we aren't able to manage it. 

Positive psychology has its place and positive thinking can be immensely helpful in times of strife. Sometimes it's all we have to keep us going! My concern is when 'thinking yourself happy' becomes a panacea for all our psychic ills, because a positive spin on life's events doesn't stop shit from happening or fix the underlying problem.  

Family matters

Whilst writing my blog post this morning, it occurred to me that I haven't mentioned the boys in quite a while so here's the latest. 

Things are generally going well. Both boys are now severely deaf and they cope so well with this, thanks to the wonders of technology. Their hearing aids do a fantastic job and at school they use radio aids. They've also developed amazing lip reading skills, so gone are the days when I could get away with whispering to James whilst they're in the room! 

Kidney wise, things are stable. Joe takes medication to protect his kidneys from further damage and this is working well. Yes he has reduced kidney function but the decline is slow and within what's expected for a boy of his age. Evan's kidneys are holding up well, so he doesn't need to take medication as yet. We are now on six monthly check ups with all the specialists involved and they book double appointments for both lads; a lot more manageable than them seeing each specialist separately, every three months.

In other news, we now know that Evan is on the autism spectrum, with Aspergers. This explains a lot as Evan has always been different to the average boy of his age (in lots of good ways!) It took a long time for the doctors to disentangle the deafness and autism stuff, because they are both in play at the same time. Getting a diagnosis has been helpful from the point of view of understanding Evan and helping him to understand himself, but less helpful in terms of support because unfortunately there isn't much available. 

In general, both boys are doing really well. Joe has just chosen his options for year 9 and Evan is about to finish primary school, so will be joining his brother at high school in September. Joe has a brilliant social life through high school, so we are hoping Evan will blossom in a similar way. Evan is still playing the drums and has recently added the trumpet to his musical repertoire.  

We will be moving house any day now, so that's our main focus at the moment. Just a few short weeks now until the school holidays - we can't wait to spend them in a house with a garden!   
 

What went before and where I am now

This is my first blog post this year!
I've been wanting to write for a while, but I found myself with a stubborn case of writer's block. What follows  is a stream of consciousness, rather rough post about how I feel my brain has changed whilst taking anti psychotic medication.

Some of the differences between my meducated brain and its non medicated counterpart are difficult to quantify because they are inner ones, so they don't translate into outward behaviour change. A good example would be the relative suppression and quietness of my imagination and inner mental life on the meds. When I'm well and unmedicated, my imagination leaps about and grabs my attention, intruding into my daily life in surprising ways. I might be sorting out the washing and suddenly my mind will present me with, say, an eloquent and perfectly coherent response to a newspaper article. I might invent a gadget, or solve an imaginary crossword while creating a meal planner for the following week. Doing several tasks at once used to be my forte. That kind of thing simply doesn't happen in my medicated brain because I've got enough on my plate focusing on whatever task is in hand. I can no longer engage in ridiculous flights of fancy or fantasy. It feels as though a chemical limit has been imposed on my mental activity.

My speed of thought is considerably slower on the meds and I'm much less "present." My focus and concentration have been seriously affected, as has my cognition in general. It's no surprise that completing my PhD became an impossibility. 

My personality has significantly altered, too. I mean I'm still recognisable as "me," but I'm much, much quieter. Less light hearted. I struggle to see the humour in things I used to find hilarious. My whole character is muted. I no longer sparkle. I seek company much less often, preferring to be solitary. I struggle with talking to people I don't know well, something that never used to be a problem. I have become a ghost on social media, whereas I used to be chatty and outgoing.  

How much of this is down to the medication and how much springs from being unwell, I don't know. I'm hopeful that it's the former because I'd hate to think that the changes were permanent. I can come off medication, after all. 

Having mental health troubles for the last three years has severely dented my confidence, both as a person and in my abilities. Losing my PhD was a big factor in this, although I have no doubt that leaving it was the right decision at the time. At the moment, I don't have anything in my life to replace it, so now that I'm starting to feel a little better, I'm also feeling directionless and lost. 

I told my psychiatrist about my perceived limitations on thinking and speed of thought and he looked at me as though I was, well, mad. It was as though I should feel grateful for being able to function at all. And from a mental health services perspective, I can see it's "job done" because I'm no longer acutely unwell. Yet true wellness, for me, would mean being able to resume activities similar to those I took for granted in my pre-illness state. 

I wonder whether my wish to recapture my pre-breakdown faculties is a bit of a 'first world problem.' Then I remember that the brain is what makes us who we are. Altering the way my brain works with strong medication has changed who I am. I think that was the right choice while I was acutely unwell, but now I'm starting to feel better, I'm looking forward to a meds free future.