Yesterday was Mother's Day in the UK and it is a day that induces mixed feelings in me. As a mum I love the handwritten cards and poems, the haphazard and frankly sometimes dangerous breakfasts in bed, and the mild panic on the face of the teenager who's forgotten.
But I appreciate that it is a tough day for those who weren't lovingly mothered, or who have lost their mothers, or who wanted to, and cannot, be mothers, or have lost their children. Surrounded by hyped up joy and adverts it must be like Christmas for depressed turkeys at times. When I was a young, fit, sane mother, juggling babies and a career and a marriage and friends and feeling on top of the world, I seemed to thrive on very little sleep. I had the blessing of my first child being on the autistic spectrum, which meant he was unusually placid and peaceful and self-contained, which meant I was able to learn how to be a placid, peaceful, self-contained mother. When I had my 'neurotypical' second boy, who started trying to climb things and fall off things as soon as he could move, although it was a surprise, I had learned the all important lesson of how to trust my instincts that does not come easily with your first child. And when my gorgeous girl arrived, I was happy to leave her on the car roof by accident as I attempted to strap a hyperactive toddler, a sensory issued Aspie and my own crutches into the car....(oops!) Although I spent a lot of time with my children (in between a full time job) I became adept at mult-tasking and not really listening to them. To a certain extent when you have three children this is a necessary life skill for survival - you cannot really engage in all the potential squabbles whilst driving and stay alive for very long. But it was only when I started to practice mindfulness whilst at the same time trying to keep my multi-tasking and distraction manageable (my coping mechanisms had become my demons) that I learned to really slow down and listen and engage with my children. I can now tell you all you (n)ever needed to know about who is 'in' and who is 'out' amongst primary 7 schoolgirls, how to build a successful team in Fifa, and why poor old Pluto got downgraded from a planet. And it is lovely, albeit disconcerting at times, to be able to connect and listen and learn from my children. Mindfulness is also a very useful skill - and I am thinking of the 3 minute breathing exercise in particular - when you are moments from having the biggest tantrum in your life because if you get ONE MORE SASSY COMEBACK AFTER YOU HAVE ASKED THEM THREE TIMES POLITELY TO DO THEIR CHORES you will explode and put the whole bloody lot of them on the naughty step regardless of the fact that they are taller than you. But mindfulness is not just about being a connected and compassionate parent. It is also about learning to accept and live with your mistakes and foibles, being compassionate to yourself, and accepting your own mother as the flawed person she is. Being able to recognise grief and anger and tension and frustration and resentment - all of which are part of a relationship between a mother and her children - and welcome them in as part of the glorious frailty and wonderfulness of the human condition is something that is hard to learn but mindfulness can help us get there.. My own mother was the victim of domestic abuse, and her abuser abused me. I grew up with a dysfunctional childhood that left me with scars that I am still recovering from and may never be fully free of. My mother did not protect me particularly well, nor did she make me feel loved or safe. As an adult I can understand and forgive her for that, but as someone who still struggles with the fallout of not being loved and protected as I grew up, I still wonder why I didn't deserve that. We all need to feel loved and protected, and we all need to *love* and protect others. Mothering comes in many forms and it isn't always from your mother. All over the world are millions of parents, step-parents, kin, foster parents and others who nurture, love and protect youngsters in the way a mother should. And even if you weren't lovingly mothered, you can still lovingly mother. So happy mindful mother's day to all the 'mothers' out there, may you find peace and strength and joy in your role, and know for sure that the world would be awful without you.
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I was born in London and I lived and worked there for several years. I know Westminster and have personally worked with MPs and civil servants who were caught up in yesterday's attacks. I even went to school with Tobias Ellwood, the heroic MP for Eastbourne who tried to save the fallen police officer. So yesterday's attacks hit home to me in the same way as those in Paris, Berlin and many other places have.
When I took to social media to find out what was happening there was shock and outrage, as was to be expected. An attack on Parliament is an attack on the nation itself, it is political and personal. But I also very quickly found the Blitz spirit that characterised my time in London. I remember several bomb threats back then and thinking, right, so that's means this station is closed, how do I get to work a different way? Never once did it occur to any of us to stop living, working and playing in one of the most multi-cultural and exciting cities in the world. Whatever the danger, a light falling of snow was probably going to shut the city down more effectively than terrorism. What also struck me was the compassion and solidarity shown by nearly everyone. The passers by helping the injured, off duty medics leaping in, nurses and doctors running from the hospital to the scene....and the calmness, the stoicism, the care. The senior police officer who took particular care to mention how vulnerable Muslim communities could be feeling. The MPs and civil servants who stayed calm and ensured that visitors felt safe. The school children who sang to cheer everyone up. This is my home city at its best. And the malicious xenophobes who sought to make political capital out of this, who sought to stir up fear and hatred? I can view them with mindful detachment. I can see their anger and fear but I won't engage in the hatred they want me to. I am angry with them, yes, and I will use all my political energy to ensure they don't get their way, but I will not respond to hatred with more hatred. This week marks the death of Martin McGuinness, a familiar bogeyman from my youth whose supporters were often responsible for my early experiences of terrorism in London. A man who found it within himself to do one of the bravest things we can ever do: to forgive his enemies, to move on from oppression and hatred and revenge and sit down and make peace for the sake of his community. Far braver than I could be in his circumstances. It take courage to be compassionate, it takes practice to not let ourselves be overwhelmed by hatred and fear, to be mindful, to recognise our emotions and vulnerabilities, and to engage with the world from a place of loving-kindness. We have to practice it over and over again because it is easy to forget and unlearn. And that is why I practice mindfulness, over, and over, and over again, every day. Because that is the only way I know how not to give in to the anger and the fear and the hatred. #HopeNotHate #WeAreNotAfraid When I had my first bout of what I now realise was PTSD in my early twenties, my counsellor told me to write down a list of everything I was grateful for. At the time I was in a really, really bad place and could only think - if I could come up with ONE thing I was grateful for I wouldn't need to be here!
I was young and daft - I thought I was being asked to do a stupid and facile thing. But what that counsellor knew was that gratitude is a really powerful thing. Research shows that each time we feel grateful for something, however small, it produces profound measurable effects on our brain: http://nymag.com/scienceofus/2016/01/how-expressing-gratitude-change-your-brain.html. Over time this produces increases in happiness and wellbeing, and reductions in depression and anxiety. Isn't that amazing?? The thing is, it isn't the 'count your blessings' approach that many well-meaning people taken when trying to help someone suffering from depression or anxiety. This is awful, and one of my top-ten hated phrases. It implies that your feelings are not real, and certainly in the cases of clinical depression and anxiety disorders can lead to a spiral of guilt and self-blame which makes the problem worse, not better. It is more that taking time each day - or more than once a day - to find things to be grateful and experience gratitude releases serotonin, endorphins and oxytocin, the 'happy chemicals' that over time help your brain function and make you feel well. And it doesn't need to be big - in fact, it can be better to be small. Be grateful for the chair you are sitting in, for the flowers, for the rain, for the sun, for your breakfast, for a smile, for the bus arriving, for your car starting, literally *anything*, your brain can't really tell the difference. Writing it down helps a lot. I found that by keeping a daily note of the things I was grateful for helped me remember them, and smile. And re-reading the list later made me smile again, so I got an extra dose of happy without even having to think of anything new. Now, the lazy person's guide to happiness? I'm all for that. Take time to find something to be grateful for every day and over time your brain will literally help you be, and stay, happy and mentally well. And this can be used alongside many other tools, like meditation, diet, exercise, drugs, talking therapies and so on, that can help you get, and stay, well, giving you *some* control over your mental health. Those of us who struggle with mild and serious mental health issues know only too well how easy it is to lose that sense of control and wellbeing, and how important it is in recovering and living well. So, DO think of, and be grateful for, your blessings. Some days, in the depths of my darkest depression and PTSD, I would be grateful that I had managed to get out of bed and dressed - it felt like climbing Mount Everest. But I am really glad I did it. What are YOU grateful for today? Four years ago I seemed to have it all. A wonderful job, three great kids, a lovely husband, a great life. I was on top of my game professionally, personally....but ticking away underneath were things I hadn't dealt with. A combination of things - overwork, stress in my marriage, my mother having a terminal illness - blew my mind apart. In old fashioned terms I had a nervous breakdown - in modern parlance an acute episode of serioys depression and anxiety and post-traumatic stress disorder (related to past abuse). I was off work for six months, unable to move much beyond the couch without experiencing terrifying hallucinations and panic attacks. I made it back to work, but had a relapse a year later and ended up an inpatient on the psych ward when I tried to change medication. I wanted to die.
As I slowly recovered, with the help of therapists and drugs, I realised I needed to add some more tools into my toolbox to get, and keep myself well. My therapist suggested mindfulness, but I tried 4 times to learn it and failed each time. The 5th time was with a wonderful teacher in a group, focussing on how to incorporate it into daily life rather than as a therapeutic treatment. I still think this is the best way to learn it. I practised it for about 18 months before it started being a useful part of what I do to keep myself well (I also have fibromyalgia, rheumatoid and osteoarthritis, so I live with persistant pain as well as madness). I trained to teach it because I wanted to give something back to my 'tribe' - fellow madsters and chronic pain survivors who need something in their lives to help them cope but maybe, like me, weren't naturally calm, mindful people who could learn it easily. I still have mad, bad, sad times, and I still have days when I am in excruciating pain. But mindfulness has taught me how to forgive myself for those days, and how to fend off bad PTSD episodes when I am triggered, and how to accept living with pain. And if I can do it, anyone can...... |
AuthorI came to mindfulness through trying to find a way to be sane and compassionate in an insane and harsh world. Archives
October 2017
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