Last September my son left home to begin a new phase of his life at university. Like many mums, I felt a mixture of sorrow, pride, happiness, loneliness, and excitement. I also felt something else.
My son has depression, something he’s very open about and shares on his blog. He’d deferred his uni place the previous year, not feeling in the right headspace to go but now…
Now he wasn’t entirely sure but after some medication and therapy, he felt it was now or never.
A few years previously, when his brother had plans to go to uni, I found myself googling student recipes to print out for him, articles on budgeting. This time around I googled suicide statistics for male students.
The results were horrifying.
Men are three times as likely to take their own life than women. My son hasn’t been brought up with a ‘boys don’t cry’ mentality. As a family, we’ve always talked and he’s openly shared his feelings with me, his mood, his ‘I’ll-never-get-out-of-bed-again days.
But I had a constant gnawing worry – what would happen when I wasn’t there to talk to?
Mostly he manages his condition well. He knows his triggers and has coping strategies in place. His new friends are understanding when he can’t face going out or leaves a gig halfway through.
Mostly he manages.
But there are times he doesn’t. Times when I check his Instagram story and know from the music he’s listening to that his mood has plummeted. Sometimes he’ll come and spend a few days at home, but sometimes he’ll retreat into himself and these are the most terrifying of times for me. The dark voice whispers in my head that it’s all my fault – something I did or didn’t do – while I anxiously trawl through his social media accounts all hours of the day and night. Not because I want to know where he is, but because if he’s posted, I know he’s alive. I study photos he’s been tagged in. How does he look? But how he looks is no indication of how he feels. As he said on his blog “you can’t see mental health, you can’t look in a mirror and see the damage being caused.”
And living with that fear. The fear that one day it might all get too much for him creates such a feeling of utter helplessness, of hopelessness it’s a constant battle to balance giving him space to grow, with checking he’s okay. I try not to plague him with endless calls and messages (often I plague him with endless calls and messages).
A few nights ago he sent me an email completely out of the blue, completely out of character. It was a long and lovely message about his brothers and me, and if it had come from one of my other children I would have burst with happiness. As it was, a cold dread wrapped itself around my heart. Immediately I rang him thinking something that no parent should ever have to consider.
‘Is this a suicide note?’
‘Umm, no. I can see why you’d think that, but no. I can promise I will never do that,’ he said with sincerity, and he meant it. But I’ve worked in mental health. I know those long, dark hours where sufferers of depression convince themselves it would be a good thing if they weren’t around anymore. That everyone would be better off. Happier.
That is never the case.
My son raises awareness of mental health where he can, particularly amongst males. I’m immensely proud of him for being so open and honest. Despite the despair he often feels, he has a desire to help others.
He said of his own journey “I went through a phase where I would drink more in the hope it would fix the problem. I can’t begin to explain how badly this impacted my mental health, constantly throwing yourself into a situation you don’t want to be in is crazy, essentially what I was doing was running as fast as I could into a wall, but every week running slightly faster and hoping that the harder I hit it, the better it would be.”
I hope that one day he stops running.
This was a raw and emotional write I’ve shared with the permission of my son. If you or your family are affected by mental health issues you can access UK mental health services (including emergency support) here and in the US here, or speak to your doctor.
While I was going through some papers I found a report you’d written on my first novel and as I read it I felt incredibly sad. You probably won’t remember it, or me, but in 2015 you almost crushed my dreams.
I’d longed to be a writer much of my life but, always lacking in confidence, being published seemed unachievable. I didn’t have a degree, any A Levels. I didn’t have the courage to sign up for a writing course.
In my 30’s an accident left me with a disability and my life radically changed. I then spent several years struggling with chronic pain, and my mood until I started writing a story, then entitled ‘Dear Grace’ about best friends, Grace, and Charlie.
For the first time in a long time, I felt I had something to get up for. A purpose. Often I was awake throughout the night, lonely and uncomfortable but now I had my manuscript – a world I could escape to and I escaped often.
I felt a feeling of immense pride when I finished my first draft but then came a bereavement, one of the people I loved most in the world suddenly gone. My depression came crashing back and I didn’t write for a long, long time.
In 2015 I reread my story and a tiny ember of hope began to smoulder. I thought it had potential but I was plagued with self-doubt.
Could I write?
Who could I ask?
It took much courage, several glasses of wine and all of our savings to send my manuscript off to a well-known organisation who offered critiques. When I heard you would be reading my story – someone who reviewed books for a living – I felt delighted.
Until I received your feedback.
Your report started by saying Writing fiction is a long hard slog for anyone and the chances of getting published are very slim.
Immediately I felt deflated, stupid for ever thinking I could achieve my dream. Assuming that for you to have told me it was unlikely I’d ever get published when I hadn’t asked for your advice nor was it something the agency listed as including in the report, must mean my writing was bad.
After your feedback on my story which you weren’t keen on, you ended your letter with ‘you show some flair but I think, bluntly, you need to face up to how difficult it is to get published. You may want to consider self-publishing. Traditional book deals from publishers are increasingly hard to come by. I’m sorry not to be more encouraging and I wish you the best.
Tears rolled down my face as I packed away my manuscript and my dreams for another six months as I spiralled back into depression.
I am writing this to let you know that dreams are fragile and hope easily extinguished. I googled you before I began writing this post and you still critique for the same agency. Please, please think twice before telling someone how impossible it is to be published if they haven’t asked you for publishing advice. You just might make them feel they aren’t good enough to write. Not everyone has an endgame of seeing their words in print and if they do not everyone is chasing a traditional deal. You never know what led them to the story they want to tell and what it means to them. I overcame depression largely because of my characters and it was something I enjoyed. You made me think I was wasting my time. That I shouldn’t. I couldn’t.
But I did.
‘Dear Grace’ became ‘The Sister’ and it went on to spend several weeks at No.1 in various countries, quickly sold well over half a million copies, has been translated into 25 languages and nominated for an award. Three other novels have followed, all with huge success. My fifth is due to be published this October.
Publishing is so subjective and although you thought I couldn’t, I’m so pleased I found a publisher who thought I could.
And for any writers reading this, don’t let anyone lead you to believe that you can’t and if they do, prove them wrong.
This weekend my sister came to stay. We’re very different but it’s lovely to spend time together. Sunday morning, while she was playing my piano I decided to refresh my vision board.
Half an hour later I had gathered a stack of magazines, scissors and was sitting at the breakfast bar cutting out headlines, random words and letters to spell out positive phrases.
‘Louise,’ she stage whispered making me jump. I hadn’t heard her come into the kitchen. ‘Are you blackmailing someone?’
‘Umm, no.’ I said while thinking God, what DOES she think of me.
‘Are you making a ransom note?’
‘No. I can promise there are absolutely no victims of kidnapping here, but you must swear NOT to go into the utility room.’
Her eyes flickered towards the door of the utility room and back to me.
‘If you were doing something,’ she shrugged, ‘As research for a book. I promise I wouldn’t tell anyone.’ (And THAT’S why I love her).
‘I’m making a visualisation board, for positive thinking.’ I said. Disinterested she wandered back to the piano. I know, I know. I am SO disappointing for a crime writer sometimes.
Positive thinking isn’t something that comes naturally to me. By nature, I worry. A lot. My anxiety was exacerbated after a change in health led to disability and chronic pain which also threw clinical depression into the mix.
Alongside gratitude journaling, which I blogged about here, I find it really beneficial to my mood to keep a visual reminder of the things I want. Of the person I strive to be. My hopes and dreams. Goals for the future. Where I want my writing career to be.
Everything manmade in our world began as the seeds of creation in someone’s mind. No matter how unachievable they were told their goals were and regardless of the opinions of others, through belief and determination their ideas became a reality.
Ours can too.
Recently on YouTube I’ve discussed whether you can use the Law of Attraction to visualise your way onto the bestsellers list (you can watch that here). A vision board is an extension of that mind-set.
I love having such a positive board hanging in my study. When I’ve killed someone off (writing wise of course – sorry sis) I can spin around in my chair and the world is light once more.
If you want to make a board, here’s how: –
1) Gather images, headlines and random words; anything that catches your eye in a magazine (or print from online). Be completely open and do this from the heart. You’ll know if an image provokes a positive feeling and it doesn’t have to make sense. Don’t try to analyse too much what the stuff you are gathering means at this stage.
2) After you have a substantial pile, sift through it for a second time, discarding anything that doesn’t resonate as strongly with you this time around.
3) Glue or pin what’s left onto your board and leave it somewhere you can see it every day. Don’t worry if some of the images don’t make sense to you at this stage. Be patient and wait and see what happens, it should all become clear.
Alternatively you can make a board specific to goals you already have in mind.
Today, I’m excited to be chatting with Chloe from Chloe Chats. Chloe’s a recent graduate who has had a really tough time with chronic anxiety. I’m interested learning how she navigated the education system and why writing has helped her therapeutically.
Hi Chloe, having first met you the day you were born I’m feeling pretty old right now to see how grown up you are but delighted to welcome you onto my blog.
Hi Louise! The time does seem to just fly by – sometimes I can’t believe I’ve already graduated from university.
Firstly, let’s touch upon your anxiety – did anything specifically trigger it?
I’m someone that has had bad anxiety all my life, I can’t even explain why I feel anxious.
I can relate to that. I felt that way before I discovered mindfulness. Now, I’m a huge advocate of mental health and find it both shocking and saddening that according to the NASUWT teaching union, 96% of teachers state they have come into contact with pupils experiencing mental health issues. Did you find your teachers were understanding?
When I was at school I never told anyone about my anxiety, none of my friends or teachers knew about it. I always kept it to myself.
That must have felt like a huge burden?
Yes. I used to feel more anxious because I was worried that people didn’t understand why I wouldn’t talk so much, or why I wouldn’t join in with all the activities. The only reason I didn’t tell anyone was because at the time I didn’t understand it myself, I thought I was ‘weird’ and everyone else was normal. I used to hate myself for not being able to be like everyone else, I would be so annoyed that I couldn’t just join in with a conversation just because I was too anxious.
So at that time you didn’t have any coping techniques in place?
No. I just tried to get through the day. Even though it was only a few years ago there was hardly any information on it, no one really spoke about it like they do now.
Did you have any support?
I was lucky that in secondary school I had a good group of friends that I felt comfortable with, although things went downhill for me when I reached sixth form. I pretty much lost my main group of friends, we all split up and ended up in different form classes and from there I slowly stopped talking to them and if I did meet them at lunch I would just sit there in silence – I can’t even tell you what happened, my anxiety got the better of me.
That must have felt really lonely. The added pressure of GCSE’s and A ’Levels can’t have helped. How did you find that period?
I ended up doing a lot of the exams by myself in a room instead of the main hall with everyone else. I managed to speak to my tutor at the time and I told her how I just couldn’t cope with sitting in the big hall with everyone and so they organised me to take my exams elsewhere. This was super helpful.
Getting through your exams must have been a relief but also brought the pressure of what next?
Yes. When school was coming to an end I panicked a little because I didn’t really know what to do! I ended up going to university where I decided to do a Media and Creative Writing course. Seeing as I enjoyed my Media AS Level so much and I loved to write I thought that was a great option.
That sounds like a positive step?
I thought so but after a week of being at uni I packed up and left – my anxiety was uncontrollable. I struggled to leave my uni room and go into the kitchen to make food because I couldn’t bring myself to bump into my flat mates. I spoke to my mum and she said to do what is best for me, she did try and get me to stay longer because a week is definitely not long enough to get a feel for it. I went home but I didn’t want to feel so defeated. I called up the uni 3 weeks later and asked if I could come back, and thankfully they said yes!! So off I went back to university again – back to my same room and this time around I stuck it out and I’m so glad I did, my flatmates were lovely, I made some great friends and met my boyfriend!
That was such a courageous decision. Did you feel more in control when you returned?
I did. The friends I made was the biggest thing that helped me. My anxiety seemed to get better but after I left uni it escalated again –and for the first time I had to put my life on hold. My panic attacks grew worse – I had them more often, my heart palpitations were non-stop, I cried a lot, I made myself physically ill because of how run-down I felt. It was at this point that I got stuck in this never-ending loop, I couldn’t see an end to it. I spent loads of time in bed and would barely eat anything, the thought of eating made me feel sick. I went to the doctors, my family looked after me, but I still couldn’t get out of this cycle. I ended up crying in the middle of a restaurant and it was so embarrassing and at that point I just said to myself this has got to stop – I need help. I reached out to my friend who I met at uni – it was handy as she is in the mental health industry. With her help I got to the stage that I felt a little better and I decided that I wanted to help others.
Which brings us to your blog. Why do you find it so beneficial?
Writing is a great coping method for me, it gives me a purpose, it keeps me busy and what I write about has helped others – I get messages from people, comments on my blog posts, and so many tweets from people saying how reading the blog posts has made them feel positive or inspired. I found it also helps to know that you’re not alone.
I honestly don’t know whether I’d have completed my first novel without the support of the WordPress community, let alone published four. Has blogging about something specific given you a sense of connection?
Definitely. I have connected with so many bloggers and it’s been fantastic to make new ‘online’ friends and to be able to talk about these issues with others.
I read your post on ‘How to boost happiness.’
That’s a great example. As I started to write what helps me feel happy it made me realise how much there actually is!
I do a similar exercise in my mindfulness classes. It’s a brave thing sharing personal posts. When I started blogging about my novel writing journey I can remember feeling absolutely terrified and so vulnerable that I was putting myself out there. How did it feel for you and has it got easier?
When I decided to publish my journey of anxiety on my blog I was terrified. I wrote it up in March, but I didn’t publish it till April because the thought of everyone knowing was a scary thought. My parents and boyfriend knew about it and one close friend but that was it. I remember I published it on a Sunday and my boyfriend was there with me and the support was overwhelming – I received so many messages from loved ones, I ended up crying a little. I felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders and it was a positive step for me. The next thing that I was anxious about was going to work the next day because I knew a lot of colleagues had read it from Facebook likes and messages. I thought I’d walk through the door and everyone would just stare at me. However, I walked in and nothing was different, everyone spoke to me like they normally would. One of my colleagues actually came and sat by me and said ‘I just wanted to say, you’re blog post was amazing and well done for sharing it.’ I had a few others message me on our chat system we had who started to tell me that they have experienced similar things – it was great that it got people talking!
It is! Finally, Chloe, as someone who has also suffered from anxiety I know how beneficial I have found writing, both journaling and blogging, but I also know how completely overwhelming it can feel to begin. What are your top 5 tips.
- You don’t have to share what you write on a blog or even with anyone else. It could be that you write it up for yourself – it’s such a relief when you get out all your thoughts onto paper (or a computer) that’s been taking up all that space in your mind.
- If you find that you’re going to bed with worries on your mind I find a great thing to do is to have a notebook by the side of your bed and write down everything that is troubling you. Sometimes writing them out can just lift that weight off your shoulders. I like to write down what is worrying me and then write some solutions next to them. This can help you have a better night’s sleep.
- If you have a blog yourself, you can always leave posts as drafts until it feels like the right time share it. Sometimes I will have something on my mind that is worrying me and so I will write a blog post on it because it helps to ease my mind but also think that it’ll be a great post for others who might have the same worry. The reason why I would leave them as drafts for a while is because sometimes I just need to get things out of my mind and so I will just type up everything that is running through my mind – sometimes I just go on and on and it doesn’t make much sense!
- What I have learnt from being a part the blogging community is that there is no pressure when it comes to publishing blog posts. The important thing I’ve learnt about is that you don’t need to look at your stats every day, you might have days where you don’t get as much engagement as you would like but that’s normal. There’s only so much promoting you can do, don’t burn yourself out. I have come across other bloggers where they’ve had weeks off because they’re not in the right headspace and if you find that you’re just writing posts after post just to get views then you should probably stop and think about why you started your blog to begin with.
- The good thing about blog posts is that you can write about whatever you like, you don’t have to worry so much if readers are going to like it, of course you want your readers to enjoy it but don’t just write about something because you think that it’s popular and will get you a load of views. They’ll be people out there that won’t like your posts so much and they’ll be others that love it and relate to it. You can’t please everyone, but I feel the most important thing is that you enjoy writing it.
Chloe, It’s been such a pleasure chatting to you and thank you for being so open an honest. I’m sure many people will resonate with this post. I look forward to following your blogging journey on Chloe Chats. Good luck.
This is William Tuke.
In 1796 William used £938 of his own money to offer an alternative to the inhuman lunatic asylums who ‘treated’ disorders with barbaric methods such as chaining people to walls and blood letting.
William’s York retreat offered ‘Moral Treatment’ for patients suffering with mental health problems. This revolutionary treatment was based on kindness, trust, and respect. Warm baths, nutritious foods and exercise were offered as William believed there was a link between physical and mental health. Patients took up gentle hobbies such as sewing.
Patients were encouraged to assist each other and above all, be kind to each other. Paying it forward. The moral treatment gained popularity with experts agreeing it caused ‘organic changes in brain matter.’
Modern day medication has obliterated moral treatment even though recent scientific studies show that helping others boosts mental health and lowers depression.
William had a dream. His dream was to encourage kindness. We should ALL be like William.
It was well over a year ago now that my fabulous agent called to tell me that Grand Central Publishing in the US were to publish my backlist and my forthcoming books, starting with The Sister.
‘Goodness. Grace and Charlie will be SO excited!’ I said.
There was a short pause before he continued running through the details. He, along with everyone else who knows me, have long since stopped pointing out that the characters in my debut novel aren’t real. Even though I’ve written three books since I penned The Sister, Grace and Charlie are still fully formed and ever present in my mind.
Proofreading the US version was like I’d never been away from the characters and even with the US spellings, and the tweaks to fit the market, it was so familiar to me. It doesn’t seem five minutes since I started writing the story, utilising the thirty minutes I had spare every day while my son had independent reading time. I started writing to see if I could lift my mental health after acquiring a disability, and subsequently clinical depression in my 30’s. I never once dreamed my new hobby would lead to a career and I feel so blessed.
Today, it’s finally US publication day for the trade paperback of The Sister and admittedly Grace and Charlie aren’t the only ones who are excited! Much of my family live in Texas and they couldn’t be happier that my books will be in stores there.
As well as being available in bookstores, I’m delighted to learn that Barnes & Nobel and Target have some special promotions lined up. Early trade reviews in Booklist and Publisher’s Weekly have been very kind and I can’t wait for my story, set in a little English village, reach a whole new readership.
Recently I was asked in an interview if I have a piece of writing I’m really proud of and I didn’t have to fumble around for an answer.
I’m massively proud of my three novels, of course, but writing the Mindfulness course for Teamwork Trust was such a privilege and a real heart and soul project for me. It’s no secret that my mobility was severely impaired after an accident which resulted in clinical depression. Learning Mindfulness and later, after years of practice, subsequently completing my Mindfulness teacher training was really my salvation. Learning the tools to enable me to take charge of my own mental health was invaluable and something I feel passionate about passing on.
Budget cuts are rife, many mental health services disappearing. Charities such as Teamwork Trust go some way towards bridging the void that has been left. It frightens me to think where some service users would be without access to counselling and wellbeing programmes. During my time teaching this course (now expertly delivered by Tim Elliston Holistics) I heard stories which were harrowing and heart-warming; triumph over tragedy.
It was a privilege to attend a charity event last Friday and celebrate with them their success in securing Local Sustainability Funding, the only organisation in Northamptonshire to do so. It was inspiring and impressive hearing how they will implement this funding to continue to run and enhance their programmes for vulnerable adults.
Teamwork are always seeking volunteers. If you’ve a small (or large) amount of time to spare each month you really could make a huge difference in supporting vulnerable people in achieving their goals. Alternatively there’s lots of opportunities for donating or fundraising if you fancy a skydive or running a marathon?
Mental health services are vital. Please pay if forward if you can, when you can. You never know when you or your loved ones might be the one in need.
A drastic change in my health around ten years ago sent me spiralling along a path of limited mobility and chronic pain. Raw and reeling, my mental health plummeted and subsequently I plunged into clinical depression. It was a dark time which left me feeling unable to care for myself, or my three children.
My local hospital didn’t know how best to help me and so came a frustrating and emotionally draining year of researching treatments that might help me (I found one) and then trying to get my local authority to fund it as it was outside of my local town (eventually they did).
For around the past eight years, every now and then, I’ve undergone this quick, simple but life-changing procedure and I am so thankful for the NHS for the time and care I have been privileged enough to receive so far. Alongside this I have paid for my own physio (I didn’t get long on the NHS lists) and I’ve done everything I can possibly do to take responsibility for, and improve my health. Today, I can potter around the house, drive, nip into shops, go for short walks, my pain levels have drastically reduced and my quality of life has greatly improved. I feel like a real hands-on mum again. I no longer need to take daily medication which had been causing me horrendous side effects. Although I still use crutches sometimes and my wheelchair for days out, when I think back to ten years ago when I was unable to stand unaided or get myself in and out of the bath, my life is unrecognisable. For that I am very grateful.
Returning to the hospital last Thursday I was shocked and dismayed to be told, through no fault of the team, that due to NHS funding cuts the hospital would no longer be offering this treatment.
This post isn’t a self-pitying one – government cuts have affected most of us in one shape or form- but rather a way to unpick the tangle of emotions I am feeling right now.
Today, thanks to the improvements to my health I can work full-time. I don’t claim disability benefits, there isn’t enough to go around and there are people worse off than me, that I know. I am in the fortunate position where I work from home, make my own hours. I can change positions if my pain gets overwhelming, I can go for a lie-down when I’m feeling exhausted, I can even skip the odd day and stay in bed during bad flare ups. This I could not do in an office but I worry now, that without this relatively simple treatment, my mobility will likely decline again, my pain increase, my mental health suffer and the thought of losing my financial independence if I am no longer capable of working is a frightening thought indeed.
Slashing funding and impacting upon people’s health will surely cost more in long run; potentially driving people out of work, onto benefits, increasing the need for medication, pain killers, anti-depressants, the already flooded waiting lists for counselling will creak under the strain, and then of course there is the need to treat the often horrific side-effects these drugs can cause.
And this is what I am struggling to make sense of. The logic behind it all.
I really don’t know what the answer is. I don’t feel I am more entitled than anyone else. All I do know is at the moment, my world, the world, seems a scary and uncertain place.
‘The only thing we can rely on in life is change.’
I like to think I’m spontaneous, open to new experiences, adventures, but at the same time, I like my routine. Structure. My little bit of normality.
My life has altered enormously over the past few years and more change is steamrollering towards me. My best friend is moving to Wales on Monday, my son leaving home, exciting things happening career wise. A real mixed bag. Emotions are heightened. There’s a sense of waiting. Waiting until things settle. Longing for the stillness. The quietness that comes when you know where you are; feet planted on the floor. But that quietness only comes through acceptance of present circumstances. Things are what they are, not necessarily what we want them to be; and that’s not always a bad thing. How often has something happened and we’ve thought it the end of the world at the time, only to feel relief later as we look back?
I often tell the story of the Farmer and the Horse in my Mindfulness classes. A little reminder to hang-fire with judgements. Things aren’t always what they seem.
And so I wait.
And I choose to believe the fluttering I feel in my stomach is excitement, not anxiety. That my future will be bright, because ultimately we get to choose how we feel and today, I choose to be happy. How about you?
The Farmer and the Horse (origin unknown)
A farmer had one old horse that he used for tilling his fields. One day the horse escaped into the hills and when all the farmer’s neighbours heard about it, they sympathised with the old man over his bad luck. “Bad luck? Good luck? Who knows?” said the farmer.
A week later, the horse returned with a herd of wild horses from the hills and this time the neighbours congratulated the farmer on his good luck. “Good luck? Bad luck? Who knows?” said the farmer.
Then, when the farmer’s son was attempting to tame one of the wild horses, he fell off its back and broke his leg. Everyone agreed that this was very bad luck. Not the farmer, who replied, “Bad Luck? Good luck? Who knows?”
Some weeks later, the army marched into the village and forced every able-bodied young man to go fight in a bloody war. When they saw that the farmer’s son had a broken leg, they let him stay. The neighbours congratulated the farmer on his good luck. “Good luck? Bad luck? Who knows?” said the farmer.
And on it goes….