Sometimes I feel Sad - and that's OK

Most of my life was spent avoiding painful emotions, any dip in mood was met with a frantic increase in activity, avoidance and, frankly physically and emotionally draining 'coping mechanisms'which, if I'm honest, weren't particularly effective. At the time those coping skills, poor as they were in the long term, actually helped me to 'function'. The problem came as the cumulative effect of using my 'coping skills' became self destructive. I felt I had to keep using them because I was so in fear of the huge torrent of grief that had been dammed up for decades, that I believed my very life depended on me stopping myself from feeling, ANYTHING.

As I have described elsewhere in this blog, the use of those coping skills resulted in me being unable to feel anything. I had reached the point where not only was I lacking in any energy to keep going, but as my GP told me, if we looked under the 'bonnet' I would find that I had long been trying to function without 'any engine at all'.

Over the past five years since that point, I have slowly built up different sets of skills and found out that the huge emotional breakers I have feared for so long didn't kill me. It has not been an easy process, developing skills takes time, effort and determination. One of the first set of skills essential for me to learn and practice were the distress tolerance skills. If I know I am equipped to cope with the feelings I fear so much, then my very existence no longer depends on preventing myself from feeling.

As time has gone on, the importance of Distress Tolerance has reduced in proportion to the number of times I find myself in crisis. The second set of skills which dovetailed into the first was the Emotion Regulation Skills. In practice, the ability to identify and name the feelings I feared so much was one of the most important points in turning the corner from the way I had lived for so long. Rather than sitting frozen in fear of a fog of indefinable feelings, I can name my 'demons' and once named the sting is taken from them.

The sets of DBT skills along with the routine practice of Mindfulness have helped me to stop the constant rise and fall of difficult emotions, to give myself time experience them, without living in constant fear of being overwhelmed by them, so that I am able to effectively manage relationships which for so long were damaged and broken by the uncontrolled impact of my emotions.

The most vital fact I have needed to face up to is that I cannot escape emotions. Simply because they are part and parcel of being human, and I am in fact a human being, contrary to how alienated my emotional responses have made me feel. Emotions are an important part of the way I am built. All emotions have a function and actually are beneficial.

I have had to adjust my thinking about emotions from seeing them as some internal monster, ready at any point to wreak havoc on my life. As someone who, due to biological and social, environmental factors, is more emotionally sensitive than average, emotions have always loomed large. Due to the experience of trauma in childhood, there has been a significant amount of grief to manage. In the past that grief has been unresolved because most of my energy was focused on avoiding feeling it. If I cannot identify the grief, and name it, it can connect in an endless stream with any difficulties, or sadness I am feeling in the present. My baseline emotion is at a higher level than average, that means that I have always struggled with a high degree of underlying grief and sadness. So, it is understandable that even the most seemingly insignificant trigger to grief in the present may well lead to overwhelming waves of grief.

It has taken me three years of working on DBT skills to understand this about myself. If I struggle to understand why my responses are so extreme, how hard then, must it be for those around me? I think sometimes, this is what makes me feel like an alien, even when in the most supportive of company. I am only just beginning to be able to articulate this process for myself.

As I have moved along the path of recovery, I am learning to recognise sadness as an emotion in its own right. Rather than try to avoid feeling it, for fear of it connecting with the overwhelming grief of the past, I am learning to accept it for what it is in the here and now. The past and its experiences are done with. Sometimes I may still feel an echo of the grief of the past, but I no longer need to fear it as massive, rolling breaker, rising threatening above my head. The waves of sadness are more manageable as a result. Not only do I now possess the skills to manage my emotions, but I have learned to accept even sadness as an important part of being a human being. It's okay to feel sad, because sometimes there are things in the here and now to be sad about, and that's okay.

Stepping Over Our Wounds (via Henri Nouwen)

There is a struggle for those of us who bear the scars of old wounds. Each time a new hurt happens, it can rip open wounds, which remain fresh, because, instead of allowing the pain to fade and heal, in time, I know I have spent too long living with and feeding the underlying hurt by living and reliving the most painful of memories. It's as if I have a belief that I could 'undo' the past by remaining inside the trauma, condemning myself to be held captive in an never-ending 'time loop'.

I have a choice, to remain forever frozen in those moments of pain and so prolong the suffering, or accept that they have happened and will leave me with scars, reminders of what I have survived, but no longer capable of stopping me from moving forward. I found this meditation from Henri Nouwen helpful in explaining that choice and the moment when I can 'step over...' and move beyond the most difficult of experiences. I may be a product of my past but I do not have to be its prisoner:

'Sometimes we have to "step over" our anger, our jealousy, or our feelings of rejection and move on. The temptation is to get stuck in our negative emotions, poking around in them as if we belong there. Then we become the "offended one," "the forgotten one," or the "discarded one." Yes, we can get attached to these negative identities and even take morbid pleasure in them. It might be good to have a look at these dark feelings and explore where they come from, but there comes a moment to step over them, leave them behind and travel on.'

A note of caution if you find this thought of 'stepping over wounds' challenging - acceptance and moving on from the wounds of the distant past is not condoning all of the wrongs done to us, nor does it prevent us, if it is the right time and circumstances for us from seeking justice. What acceptance does is to help us recognise that no person, circumstance, substance or material possession will be able to undo the injustices and pain of the past. Nor does acceptance entirely remove the shadows cast by such traumas. What it allows us to do is accept that we have had the strength and courage to survive the worst. Having recognised that, we then have a choice: to remain trapped in the past, or to build on the strength and courage we have to live whatever life we choose, for ourselves. The prison door is open, but I still need to walk out of it, myself.

There are Still 'Bad' Days

The thing is, outside of my emotion fogged vision of 'how life should be', it's actually not easy for anyone. That little realisation has taken me so long to get to, it's not funny. We're all guilty of it; that conviction that 'everyone else' somehow is living a gilded, perfect life. The belief that 'if only...', my life would be problem free and perfect. As I have learned to deal with the nuclear emotional fallout from the combination of my biological predisposition and impact of social environments, I have learned to be less focused on my own storms and able to see more clearly the world and people around me. The grass is always greener...? Only if I am entirely focused on my internal struggles.

The impact of mindfulness is often described as suddenly feeling 'awake' to life in the here and now. For me, practising mindfulness and DBT skills is not about distancing myself from my experience of 'real' life. Rather, it is to replace coping mechanisms which cushioned me and separated me from both the environments and relationships I was living through. In a sense those skills which helped me survive trauma and the symptoms of mental illness, actually built a wall of 'bubble wrap' around me which became so deep that my emotional experience eventually became total 'numbness'. Recovery has meant that I am able to feel and experience life as it is. I do feel more aware and more awake to life more clearly. It is not distorted by either emotional responses which cause me to be terrified of my life experience, or those emotional responses which are so maniacally 'happy' that they deny the impact of real day to day difficulties which are part of life.

As I have moved from clinging on by my fingertips in the most terrible emotional storms, to a mix of calm and 'choppy' emotional experiences (ie 'normal' life), I have the energy to recognise more clearly life as it is in the here and now and, more importantly the emotional energy to cope with everyday ups and downs.

The picture I have in mind is the difference between the scenes from 'The Perfect Storm' where a small vessel is tossed about mercilessly and hopelessly on huge waves, beyond which it is impossible to see, to the kind of 'swell' which is more common, where waves can be felt and seen, but where the ultimate destination can be seen beyond. That is the difference between, 'before' and 'after' skills and learning how to use them to manage my emotions.

So, here I am at a time of year that is not the most uplifting, recognising that I am having a few 'bad' days. The difference for me now is that I can see beyond these days, that I am certain, 'this too will pass'. The other thing is that any fears I have that 'bad' days mean I am relapsing back to the previous 'Perfect Storm' days are unfounded. I have moved from merely surviving and existing, to a life which is meaningful and worthwhile. As long as I continue to build on the skills I have learned and use the helpful techniques that help me manage aspects of life that other people may take for granted, then my internal as well as external life will more closely reflect the life experience of most people.

The Sound of Silence....is it golden for you?

'Click, Click, Click' these used to be the first sounds to enter my consciousness as first the radio, then the TV and finally the phone were switched on. There was no point in my day when I was able to hear 'background sounds', or even the sound of silence. From the radio in my car to my ipod constantly plugged into my ears when working 'quietly' to everyone else's music or endless chatter, I never considered that my quiet times were anything but.

Three years on from beginning to practise DBT skills, and mindfulness in my daily life, I have found that there are many times when I am enveloped in the 'sound of silence'. Everyday, after the initial alarm, I potter around my house doing my daily chores and even eat, drink and read in 'silence'.

If I'm honest, I have only recently become comfortable with silence. In the past there was an urgency in blocking it out. So much energy was invested in damming up the feared internal distress that both physical and mental 'busyness' became an ingrained habit. In the same way that I invested every last drop of physical energy in my paid work, I invested all of my time alone in noise to drown out my internal distress.

There is a reason that some of the torture techniques recently reported from Guantanamo involve noise. Either incessant blaring music or 'white noise', but then again the difference between music and noise is in the ear of the beholder! Walking in nature without my ipod is relaxing simply because I am no longer forcing into my mind noise for fear that I will be overwhelmed by the internal noise within.

What has changed is the realisation that I no longer fear the feelings that used to overwhelm and defeat me. I have learned to move on from my past and my present is no longer burdened with long remembered hurts. Some emotional pain is justified but it becomes suffering when I allow it to mar my experience of more positive experiences in the here and now. Scars exist and are a natural part of having survived trauma, but they fail to heal if I keep tearing the scabs from them. If I can learn to accept the feelings without trying to drown them out with constant noise, then the rawness of the scars will lessen and heal without the underlying distress keeping the emotional pain fresh.

Silence has an important role to play in healing. In silence I find space to feel, think, reflect - important that it does not become brooding. This is where the disciplines of mindfulness give me the skills I need to make the most of silence. Focus on the immediate, the here and now, ground myself in the present and when feelings which are unconnected with my current moment arise, let them go. The fear of being unable to cope with silence goes, the more I practise non-judgemental, one thing at a time.

Something else which making room for silence does, is that it allows me to enjoy even more the times when I listen to music or watch something. When I am able to enjoy the silence, then I am able to experience and therefore enjoy the non silence even more. Silence and space allow me to enjoy the times and experiences which fill the silence. I can appreciate the night sky most when I am in an environment which is far from artificial light - when I am far from light pollution.

The problem with my previous fear of silence is that in an effort to run from it I cluttered my mind and emotions with noise and mental pollution. If I can give myself space and time to experience silence, then it allows me a purer experience of life when it comes into that silence. The other thing about 'silence' is that outside of a vacuum, which none of us live in, it is never absolute. There is always something we can listen to, if only we could switch off the artificial sounds with which we swamp ourselves!

Hope - the Double Edged Sword

I have neglected my blog here for the past few weeks, because I have become more involved in different projects, which I hope will lead to paid employment in time. It has been a struggle to balance what I 'think' I 'should be doing and what I can actually achieve while managing to maintain my sense of equilibrium. One of the 'jobs' I've taken on is a role as an Expert by Experience. Through engaging with local Mental Health services from a new perspective I have started to reflect on how I have changed over the past five years. One particular new development is that I am finding myself less fearful of hope than I used to be.

Throughout my life 'Hope' has been a concept/feeling/idea that was a double edged sword. Take the pre-Christmas time of year, for example. Every year I would look forward to the 25th December with absolute hope, faith and optimism that somehow my family would be transformed and that from that Christmas on, our lives would be transformed. It's not that I bought into any of the commercialism consciously, just that everyone tries harder over that period and so, a bit like when families are on show, we all tended to be on our best behaviour. Also the only expression of acceptance and love from our parents was in giving us material gifts. At Christmas there was an abundance, somehow I hoped this would continue into the new year, but every year that hope dissipated in the reality that our parents were effectively disinterested in our lives. Except when they were angry with us.

I learned to fear hope, and to avoid anyone or anything which gave me hope. If I could learn not to be 'deluded' by hope, then the pain and distress I experienced with my life, especially when my hopes were dashed, would be less sharply felt by me. It is easier to accept life in the gutter if I've never even noticed that I can see the stars from there, let alone reach for them.

The problem I have faced is that if I am to find a life worth living, then I need to have something to hope in. That there can be purpose and meaning to every experience in life, both good and bad. For me that has come from a faith in a God who is bigger than me and my life. For others, they find it in family and other relationships. This has helped me primarily to make peace with the worst experiences of my life. I can see the bits of my character that have been shaped not by the harm done to me, but by the resilience which has helped me to survive and build a life that I can enjoy. One of the most critical moments in my treatment was when my therapist told me there was help and therefore hope that my life didn't have to be determined by my emotions or my past experiences anymore.

It is easy to assume that the alternative to hope is despair. I have learned that, that doesn't have to be true. As I have learned more and more about the DBT Skill of Radical Acceptance I have begun to recognise that sometimes, it wasn't hope and its loss which hurt me most. Rather it is the fact that I would hope unrealistically, or give my hope to people who either weren't worthy of it, or capable of fulfilling it. No individual person can fill the emotional void left by childhood and adult trauma. Sometimes the skill lies in recognising when hope is not appropriate. There are circumstances, or relationships, which no matter how hard I hope it wasn't so, will never change. It took me a lifetime to realise that even Christmas couldn't change my parents and the results of their own upbringing. Accepting that and letting go of the hope that by wishing I could effect a change, has freed to me to build a relationship with my parents that no longer reopens wounds from the past - over and over.

Another area I have struggled with is the sense of injustice I feel about how vulnerable people are treated. However much I hope that the injustice of government policies related to welfare and mental health funding will change, I must accept that, however flawed the election process, a majority of MPs are not supportive of such compassionate and corporate policies to help the most vulnerable in our society. Sadly, the majority of those who voted, voted for that kind of government. There is no point in me hoping that will magically change before 2020 when the next Election is due. However, I can look forward to that year and hope that if I can share my ideas and beliefs about a just society across, join with others who share those beliefs, then there may be hope that a change can happen. For now, acceptance is the right alternative to hope.

As I have moved away from being completely overwhelmed by my emotions, I have noticed that my view of hope has become an active practice of wise mind. Hope is an emotion, I feel it in my gut. However, I need to make sure that the facts of any given situation need to confirm that gut feeling for it to be a force which drives me forward. Unfettered hope, hope that is built on a denial of the realities of the situation is a false hope and it is that which hurts. Hope grounded in substantial, realistic understanding of what is going on around me, an awareness of what I and others are capable of, has a better chance of being fulfilled. Naturally, there are still times, because no one can predict the future, when hope is disappointed, but if we can consider the prospect of disappointment ahead of time, then rather than wreaking wholesale emotional devastation as in the past, it is something that we can both survive and build on.

Poustinia - finding my still small centre

'A poustinia (Russian: пустынь) is a small sparsely furnished cabin or room where one goes to pray and fast alone in the presence of God. The word poustinia has its origin in the Russian word for desert (пустыня).'

I have not posted on here for some weeks, mainly because I am in the process of building in more formal work to my routines. It is challenging for a number of reasons. Firstly, it has, and is, taking me time to absorb and accept, that in order to maintain my current levels of emotional stability I need space and time to practice my emotion management skills. Secondly, my previous patterns of extreme working to the point of emotional, mental and physical exhaustion is not sustainable, or advisable if I am to maintain emotional stability. Thirdly, I am learning that I need to actively build a life which gives me emotional space, which in turn means that I need to accept that I cannot sustain full time or even half time hours, compared to my previous working patterns.

One of the roles I have taken on is as an Expert by Experience in three separate roles within the local NHS Trust. As these opportunities have developed I have become a service user consultant to my DBT team. I am revisiting DBT skills from further down the road of recovery and recognising that one aspect of my emotional management which has 'slipped' is my use of formal Mindfulness exercises. Don't get me wrong I keep myself focused and alert to the here and now by using the how and what of DBT mindful practise, but I have not managed to make sitting down and focusing on a mindful exercise part of my daily routine. Having been reminded of this I have tried to build it into the routines at the start of my day.

Thinking about this more formal mindful practise I am reminded of the idea of Poustinia which I was first introduced to when on retreat at the Northumbria Community approximately twenty years ago. At the time I was looking for a way to manage my stormy thought and emotional life. Poustinia as stated above finds its roots in the Russian word for 'desert'. As with the real desert environment, the practice of poustinia can either result in exposure and vulnerability, or if I am properly prepared and equipped, it can be a place to find clarity and space to focus away from the hurly burly of day to day life. Where it is practised as a spiritual discipline there are strict rules about preparing to go to Poustinia and when people are ready for those moments of isolation. Just as there are times when isolation is not helpful to me, there will be times when too much time contemplating risks tumbling into introspection and rumination which can keep damaging emotions ignited and stoked.

For me, Poustinia does not have to be a purpose built cabin in the wilderness, as in Russian Orthodox religion, but has become the idea that I have made a space in which to contemplate and nurture my relationship with God, in this context I also notice my emotional state and prepare myself for the best possible start to my day. At home it is a snuggle chair, prior to settling down I avoid switching on any of my electronics. This routine along with the routine practice of mindful exercises means that my day is not a crashing launch into activity and crowded thoughts, but is a calm assessment of how I am doing. Hopefully, it makes me less vulnerable to emotional instability. Where it coincides with mindful practice is the idea that I can recreate this place of poustinia, internally, at any point in my day. If the events of the day around me are at risk of creating instability in my thinking or emotions, I can use mindful breathing to focus whilst at the same time anchoring my experience in my wider belief in God and the purpose and meaning that brings to my life.

The Feeling is on the tip of my Tongue

I've been revisiting the DBT Skills in a more structured way recently. It has brought unexpected challenges to my day to day practice. It has been some time since I have found myself noticing and, therefore recognising the distinction between primary and secondary emotions. Coming back to DBT skills after a time when I had become accustomed to a narrow range of skills which suited me and with which I had become comfortable, has reminded me that continuing to manage my emotions effectively starts with being able to notice and name the feelings I may be grappling with.

One day I found myself feeling unutterably irritable, angry even at the world in general, other people, but (an echo from the past) most of all at myself. It was an uncomfortable feeling as I have managed to achieve a reasonable level of equilibrium. However, I am embarking on a number of new projects which I find challenging.

In the past I would have been tempted to wallow in the discomfort, allowing it to grow into the impulse to self harm. The Poison Tree by William Blake, has always summed up the dangers of nurturing bitterness, anger and hatred, particularly when it is turned inward. 'I was angry with my friend, I told my wrath, my wrath did end, I was angry with my foe, I told it not, my wrath did grow...'

As someone who is emotionally sensitive, I find it easier to forgive others than to forgive myself. Self directed anger needs a range of skills to manage, particularly so it does not become a spur to self harm. Naming it is vital. Spiky was how I would describe my general sense of how I was feeling, but it took me a long time to name 'anger' as the surface emotion. The problem then became, angry at what?

Rather than sit and ruminate, nurturing and feeding the destructive emotion, I decided to 'stomp' it out. So, along with my dog, I embarked on a two hour brisk walk. One hour in, the feeling of anger moved and changed into another feeling. I realised then that I was feeling sad, I was missing some key relationships from my time in Mental Health Services. I have moved forward to a point where I can use my skills, I have learned to self reflect. However, there will be times when I need coaching and encouragement. I am moving into a phase where that needs to be something I do for myself, having previously relied on my Care Co-ordinator and DBT Therapist to guide my reflections.

It is good to reflect that the storm of irritability lasted around three hours from when I first felt angry to resolving the feeling into sadness and allowing myself to feel sad about good relationships that have past. It is ok, it is understandable. In the past most of my emotional life was dominated either by a feeling of numbness when I was engulfed in an amorphous cloud of numerous emotions, or outright irritability and anger at myself which periodically exploded against those closest to me, but primarily at myself.

'Telling' my feelings allows me to look the challenger in the face. I was able to move forward when I acknowledged that I was angry, used opposite action to deal with that feeling until the main emotion, sadness was ready to be named.

I am learning that when I can't immediately tell you what I am really feeling, I know it is just on the tip of my tongue... I am learning to make space and give myself time until I am ready to tell my feelings and stop them from becoming an all devouring monster.