Moody Moody Moods...

Geez I hate it when my mood darkens beyond what I regard as a typical range of emotions. When it darkens to where I feel like my heart is sinking into mud and my mood is shrouded in negativity.

As I've said before, my mind is a saboteur. A strange entity that is clearly not happy when I AM!

One day I decided a mood meter might help. A bit of silliness amongst the intensity that having depression and anxiety can bring. It's also a way to remind me that I will get better and that the mood meter doesn't have to be stuck at the lowest setting. I can and will rise out of the misery. Basically, don't give up.

So, here it is:


Feel free to copy (for personal use only) and use it to mark how you feel, or where you know in your heart you will be, once the darker mood you're feeling passes.

Cheers

Dayle

The Talk of My Life....

Hey there.
Recently I was asked to speak about my journal at a Mental Health Awareness Week function. I was mostly okay leading up to this, having worked out generally what I was going to say, but not reading directly from a written speech. Anyway, I arrived at what I thought would be a fairly subdued, simple civil reception and there must've been 200 or so people there!!! EEEEEEK!! I had a mini melt down whilst trying to stay calm, not throw up, and avoid drinking too much wine on an empty and very nervous stomach.

After some awards were given out to wonderfully deserving people, both dealing with mental illness and working with or caring for those who do, a man called James McLure rose to speak. He was the main speech of the night having released a book containing his journey into and through schizophrenia. An inspiring guy who went on a rather spiritual journey into this very misunderstood illness. I thought it was mostly a dark journey, however James' appeared to be rather uplifting for him, albeit a false height, from which he did eventually fall. He was so open about his experience and wanting to help others with mental health issues, so it was a real privilege to be sharing my journey with James.

I spoke next. I was hoping for a more intimate audience (read this as smaller, less intimidating!), which wasn't helped by having to stand behind a lecturn that felt so far away from the audience and talk into a microphone. Anyway, I got through my speech okay. I think I made a connection with some people, which is really lovely, as a few came up to me afterwards and offer their empathy with my experience with anxiety and depression, or my journal's purpose, or want to buy one then & there. This was an amazing boost to my confidence, for which I'm really grateful.

Later that evening, I was lying in bed scribbling in my journal with my favourite pens. I felt so emotional about the evening, so much more connected with the purpose of my own work, my little journal for self nurturing, that I drew this:


All of this is so poignant! My comment of: "a tear is a fear being let go" surprised even myself the more I thought about how much it meant. I'm typically a fearful & anxious person and what I hadn't realised at the time of drawing this is that I'd finally given myself permission to let go of the fear I had of my book failing. The comment below it (let it flow...) is based on a tool I use to help me to let go of worries that nag me. A few years a go I adapted the Christmas carol "Let it snow" where I just sing the chorus as "Let it go, let it go, let it go" instead. Let go of the nagging worry, the incessant doubts, rumination and fear. But for this night, it became "Let it flow, let it flow, let it FLOW". This to me meant not only that I could let my tears flow and hence let my fears go, but also let my bursting creativity and confidence out, flowing onto paper and into my life wholeheartedly, without worrying about rejection or failure. Creativity, colour and vibrancy are such a part of who I am so it was wonderful to be able to articulate this in a kind of spiritual way on paper, and within my beloved journal creation.

So, next time you cry see it as self nurture where letting go is both liberating and kind to your heart & soul.

Hugs,

Dayle

SNAKE!!!

It's early Spring...

The weather's really warming up, flowers are blooming, my feet aren't cold on the wooden floors any more, the cats are sunning themselves outside wherever they can....

Then there's the end of hybernation for all the snakes! Last Thursday night there was a 3 metre python in our neighbour's front yard, within a few metres of ours. I don't hate snakes, but I'm scared of them. I'm very understanding of how challenging it must be for animals caught up in suburbia, trying to survive and procreate without getting killed by us humans. But when there's one right in our area that I know can kill my kitties, or our chickens, or strangle me from behind whilst watching TV, or dislocate its jaw and swallow me whole as I'm in a deep slumber... (Cue: gloomy undertone of nervous music in background to create dread and suspense.) Yep. My imagination runs away from me. Even the little lizards can't make a move in the rustling leaves of our garden beds without me going all girly and "eeky" thinking it's the KILLER PYTHON WITH FANGS OF STEEL. It reminded me of a lyrical poem I wrote not that long about snakeskin. It's 'lyrical' because in my mind when I recite it there's a very clear, blockbuster movie style, backing track......

Snake skin, lying in my way

Drying under hot sun, messing up my day.

It lies there like a beacon, reminding me that pain

Is all about the misery and nothing left to gain.

It’s a…

Snake skin, its owner has moved out

Fucking little creature, how dare you shed your doubt.

You leave me here with your past

Rotting on the ground,

Like the past is nothing, no lessons to be found.

It’s a…

Snake skin, its owner's far from here.

Leaving skin to rot, and me with all my fear.

I'm pretty big on metaphors or symbols, so writing this poem not only highlighted a certain anxiety in me about snakes but also about life and worrying as much as I can about the 'what ifs'. We all do that, I think. But when it becomes all consuming it can leave you rather detached from what is going on around you now. I have spent a lot of time living in the future or deep in the past. I now realise that I have much to offer the present. Now. And I have much to gain from slowing down and appreciating the joys and stimulation that frequently surround me.

At this moment, the sun is getting close to setting, so it's all large and orange and beautifully glowing over the town my house is perched up the hill from. The window to my playroom is open and birds are chirping in all their different tunes. Hubby has just pulled up in the car, having finished his working day. We're having felafels for dinner. Yummm... Such wonderful, pleasant thoughts.

Love, warmth & light,

Dayle

Active Meditation - "Mindfulness" in Action

I have found over the past few years that some activities I enjoy are actually quite meditative. By this I mean that I can become very relaxed and peaceful just by doing them, my mind is untroubled, my body isn't as tense, and I generally feel lovely doing that activity.

For example, gardening. Basic weeding and cutting back of overgrown plants can be a great way to relax the mind, whilst not having to sit still and 'try' and clear your mind - a typical perception of the more passive style of meditation. (Not always true, by the way.)

Often I notice the little things, just walking through the garden. Like this:

This is a Ceylon spinach plant vine in my back yard, taking the opportunity to attach itself to the nearest object.

Another form of active meditation for me is spinning yarn, which is so lovely as I let the spinning action of the yarn twist and grab hold of each bunch of loose fibres I hold in my hand. The rhythmic & gentle pumping of the treddle to turn the wheel creates, for me, a kind of rocking and soothing motion that lulls me into a wonderfully peaceful place....

This is my spinning wheel, and that's Meg in the background, my 'middle child'. The odd looking stuff I'm spinning is actually a mixture of all sorts of fibres, bits of yarn, fabric & even cotton balls, created in what's called a fibre sandwich. Creating this mix of 'stuff to spin' is also actively meditative, as a few of us at my craft group got together and added a variety of spinable items into a layered pile, then segmented it all for each of us to take away and spin or felt. We all stood around the edges of the layers, moving around, adding bits here and there and generally enjoying the process of creating somethin very new and original! The final product from my spinning is this, a crocheted bowl:

I've nick named it 'Carnival Carnage' - it's a bit of a dog's brekky, but for me it was about learning something new, not necessarily about the prettiness of it. I love it, by the way! It's a downright frenzy of textures and colours and I MADE IT MYSELF!

I'm sure if we all look at the simple things in life that create a calmness we hadn't really noticed before, perhaps we might learn to see them as little saviours each day. They help us to keep our feet on the ground, not let the complexities of life win over our sanity, and they are good for our sense of self, oneness. That's important, because we find that our true selves, without the layers of externalities like impressions, expectations, obligations and general material elements of day to day living, are really quite peaceful, and thrive on opportunities to feel that calmness.

So, take a walk around your garden and notice the lovely things, sit in a park and watch the birds or the people coming & going, or the ripples on a river or shore, and let your mind just float...

Journalling Journeys

My book is finally printed! Yay!! I'm so happy and exhilarated (and a bit scared). Over two years of designing, creating, readjusting, proofreading and finalising has culminated in my book called Self Nurture Journal. I'm very proud of how it's turned out. The book bridges the gap between many self-help books (of which I have way too many - not sure if I've read them all either) and that blank journal page that I know I've stared at and felt daunted by. I mean, I know writing's good for me. Self expression is a great release, but a pristine lined page can mean I feel like I need to write like a sophisticated, articulate human super creature, rather than just writing as me. And what about those blank journals we often buy because they look pretty then we keep them on the shelf instead of using them, so they've become ornamental dust collectors!

There's this range of divinely ornate journals out at the moment, adorned with gold, and intricately embossed covers, some with quotes from classic novels on the covers, others with ancient symbols & historical designs. Very elaborate and beautiful. So, before we even get to the pages in between we are confronted with an intimidating perfection that leaves us feeling pale in comparison.

Not all of us are like this, but I have met a lot of people who are. We can spend so much time living up to the expectations we place on ourselves or think that others place on us that we lose sight of what we want or need. It's like there's a chameleon in all of us. You know, at the end of the day the pages in between these fancy journals are just simple, white, lined sheets.

So, here's the front cover of my book:

I've done the illustrations myself, with the tree on the front being very poignant - it's self-nurturing! My book has been made to be accessible - by this I mean I've kept it in a format that's not too daunting and that invites people to explore themselves and life's issues that challenge them. I've included prompts and inspiration on the writing pages so people can feel like they're being asked kind and caring questions by a personal friend who will listen attentively, never judge, and will let the writer express her or himself freely. I've even had the copies of my book spiral bound so it sits flat, is easier for left and right handers, and the pages can be folded behind to make it easier to draw or write. I'd love people to use the book to learn to journal, to find some value in journalling, and to see value in taking the time to journal regularly.

This book's been created with a lot of love and understanding of human frailty, so I hope it can help others. I've done a lot of informal research to keep the book as grounded and accessible as I can, with the prompts being open to your personal interpretation - you make of them what you wish.

So, there you have it. My book is born in all it's simplicity and openness. Yay!! :P

Dayle

The Saboteur...

I'm going to be very blunt this post, so please read on, but understand it may be too intense for some...

I have a condition called Generalised Anxiety Disorder, along with an unkind dose of depression. Basically, I worry and fret a lot, feeling mostly anxious in some form. It could be about something I've done that I think may have upset someone (with or without proof), or something that may happen no matter how slim the chance may be, or something I feel I should have done or done better. I can become very distressed and overwhelmed by new situations, or whilst dealing with fairly simple pressures such as juggling public transport, driving in moderate to heavy traffic, shopping at the supermarket, in a not very challenging job, waiting in a queue, in large crowds, when I'm cold with no way to warm up in the short term, trying to find something I've misplaced, paying bills, and generally dealing with unexpected events.

I battle with this daily, if not hourly, and it can often be very debilitating. I suffer the most/worst when working, as I feel inadequate for very little reason and this then consumes me as I see more and more in the faces of those around me that perhaps they're just tolerating me, don't think much of me at all because I am weak. This may or may not be the case, and I guess it's the uncertainty that eats away at my self esteem. I then start to beat myself up mentally - I feel sick, miserable, very disappointed in myself and too emotional to keep a poker face. I usually end up teary, emotional and it's very embarrassing.

When it comes to social situations, I suffer similar feelings when meeting new people, however, my career isn't dependent on it. Unfortunately, though, my self confidence takes a massive blow from that oppressive feeling my mind generates, for no justifiable reason, that I'm just being tolerated, or that people would rather be elsewhere than listening/talking to me.

And my husband - bless him - is such a wonderfully easy going person, but he also feels very helpless on occasions when I'm in a blubbering mess on the couch, totally overwhelmed by feelings of absolute hopelessness, despondency. He wants to help me, heal me so much. This is lovely, but also very hard for me to deal with, as my mind messes with this and decides that I am much more of a burden on him than he should have to put up with. So, who should have to put up with the pits of despair I often end up in?

So, I have a saboteur inside me. No one else is doing this to me, so why would I do this to myself? Basically I do not choose to be like this, nor would I wish this sort of constant and enduring trauma, distres and sense of devastation on anybody else. I even get chest pains that can be very scary, as I feell ike I'm having a heart attack. They can last for hours. I've been checked out and my heart seems fine, however, it's still very scary, which adds to the panic and reinforces the chest pain = vicious circle.

One thing I realise is that I seem to want to prepare myself for whatever may come my way, particularly something that may shock or scare me, that is, any sort of bad news. I have to have control over something and be prepared, as I feel I have no control, that I am at the mercy of anything and everything that may come my way.

What often helps me is using very loud (literally and figuratively) self-reasoning (eg. Cognitive Behavioural Therapy), bawling my eyes out then sleeping for a few hours, seeing a counsellor, medication that I can raise or lower to help with my fluctuating distress, and escapism or distraction (egs. music, arty crafty activities, mindless TV, chatting with friends or family, surfing fun stuff online). It works about 70% of the time, if I have the opportunity to use it when I most need it. When I don't, this is where self-destructive activities can surface - these are primarily excessive alcohol, or actual self harm to break the hold the distress has on me. I hardly ever take my frustration out on others, I turn it in on myself. For example, I have this 'logic' that I am so dysfunctional that life in general is just too much, and I probably should have died before I was born, like some foetuses do that have a drastic physical abnormality. Extreme I know. But this is how my brain sabotages my outlook on life.

I have battled this for most of my life, with my first proper diagnosis of a panic attack at age 16. Twenty years, it's been. I hate what I endure and I hate the lack of assurity that I will ever improve and be able to hold a proper job, have a relaxed social life, or do the simple things again without such debilitating distress. I also hate the thought that I may have to put up with this for the next 40 or so years.

I do have a few theories about my situation:

1. That I have a predisposition to anxiety - supersensitivity, guilt, excessive worry, rumination - which then gets combined with my extroverted personality. Basically I inherited much of my excessive anxiety. I can see it in my Mum, and my grandfather was a constant worrier. They say it can be up to 50% genetic. :(
   
2. That I perhaps did not mature in certain parts of my brain. For example, I've watched how anxious toddlers and young children can be when put in uncertain situations, and I wondered if a part of me remained immature. I cry way too easily when distressed, which is often. I also "bounce back" quite quickly after reaching the depths of the misery. Sometimes within minutes.
   
3. That many people, such as myself, have an effective "allergy" to the pace and intensity of modern society. That is, oversensitisation to a massive amount of stimuli along with consumerist pressures, a lack of strong community connection and support, and the battle to gain financial security for the present and future. (Egs. Wanting our humble home paid off by retirement age so we don't have big debts when on a lowly pension; or competing with so many others for temporary or short term jobs when there is also so little job security and loyalty from employers.)

Thanks for reading this post. I know that what I have spoken about in this blog is quite deep and may be challenging to some, but I also hope that others, who also suffer with distressing anxiety, feel much more understood and less alone.

Dayle
XXX

A Hundred Yaks???

Okay, I have good hearing but on a vague occasion I can seriously miss what someone is saying to me. I recently flew to Melbourne (Australia) to spend a couple of weeks with my darling family. I decided to double check my cabin luggage was all okay security-wise, particularly considering I had crochet hooks in there and didn't want to get anything confiscated.

I got through the security check okay but couldn't see how to get back out to my husband, patiently waiting near the check in point with the rest of my luggage. I asked one security guard where I should go to get back out of the secured area: 'Oh, down a hundred yaks' he said, pointing to his right. 'Umm, ooookay' I said, confused look on my face, and continued on in that direction. I was baffled. I'd heard people say something was 'a hundred clicks' down the road when referring to kilometres in a 'Hey I'm local - I'll point you in the right direction' kinda way. But this was ridiculous! What is a Yak??? No, I know what a yak is, but what's the distance??? Huh?? It could be metres I guess. Anyway....

I gave in out of confusion and asked another security guard I happened to see. And would you believe it, he said the same darn thing!! He pointed to his right and said "Awww, down a hundred yaks". Oh yeah, I was completely weirded out. I mean, I'd driven to the nearest airport which happens to be in the next state (Queensland) but surely this couldn't be some local dialect.

So, I walked around the corner in the direction pointed out and then saw it: "Hungry Jacks" followed by a sign pointing to the exit. Bloody hell!! Hungry Jacks is a fast food restaurant like Burger King. So they'd been saying "Down at Hungry Jacks". Oh wow, what a communication breakdown that was. At least it was a funny one. So now if I pass a Hungry Jacks on the side of the road I smile, roll my eyes at my silly miscomprehension, and realise that it kinda made my day.

I see humour in such wonderful places, almost every day - It's often my personal 'saviour'. Humour keeps my spirits up and comes in handy for when I'm facing an uncertain situation: air travel (eek!), family visits, financial pressure, job applications, health concerns. Anything that helps us to gain a kinder perspective of a scary situation, such as one we may have only little or even no control over, or strengthens our abililty to cope with unexpected challenges is a great resource, one I personally cherish.

Ritual Burnings

Yes, this is what hubby and I did this weekend past. And it felt GOOD!!

Simon (darling husband o' mine) and I were involved in a budding community organisation for about 3 years. We helped with various roles, decision making, brain storming, policy writing, minute taking, publicity and membership drives, and strategic manoevres to navigate through bureaucracy and egos to help build a new community development. All sounds very rewarding and hard work - shed a tear, have a group hug n all that. BUT!!...

By the end of the long haul to help set up the organisation's new development we were so sick of the project, the people and the bullshit that we departed from any positions we held on committees (by retiring at end of term) and have since not had anything to do with the organisation. Don't get me wrong, we wish them well, but after such a hard slog, all the love and devotion had leaked away and left dry, bitter memories.

So, last Saturday night Simon and I gathered up all the paperwork we had on the organisation - old minutes, invites to openings, envelopes with messages about the group on them, notices of meetings, copies of policy documents: we gathered it all up and threw it all into a fire in our back yard.

We threw it in as crumpled balls with a sense of satisfaction each time one hit the flames and caught alight. "That's for taking the fun out of community organisations", I growled. "That's for the huge pressure it put on our marriage" Simon yelled, throwing his pieces into the fire. "That's for all the questioning of our faith, abilities and dedication towards the group", I added, hurling bits and pieces of ripped envelopes and paper that weren't even worthy of scrap note paper, or even recycling.

Our final goodbye to a lot of hard work that left us exhausted and jaded. But we're very happy we got to do this ritual burning. Wonderfully cathartic! I can definitely recommend it as a way to exorcise the proverbial demons and say goodbye to bad energy.

Big hugs from me.

Dayle

The "iKerfuffle"

I have taken on a new challenge: Find as many ways to use the "iPod", "iPad" "iWhatever" style of label wording into a more interesting realm OUTSIDE of modern technology.

I first started with "iWrite" ....Nope, computers can write. Not sure about writing styles, such as our personal signatures, or whether they can 'learn' to write as a process, like most of us do as children.

What about "iLove"....hmmmm, that's a good one. No interfering technology here. We may love our technology back?

"iFeel"? I wonder if there's some smarty pants robot out there that can read faces and show assumed empathy in an expressed reaction of some sort. For example: Person to computer: "iLove that I can store so many photos on my computer". Computer to person: Automated response using "iFeel" command - Giant Smiley Face icon on screen and computer voice stating 'Thank You', generated by voice recognition software that detected use of 'I', 'love' and 'computer' in one sentence.

Then I extended my search further: "iCry".... This one's interesting as there's the mechanics of crying or simulated crying with some sort of technology, then there's how we feel that brings us to crying and THAT can't be replicated by a robot. Well I hope not.

"iGrow". Nah, technology can't grow on its own - yet! It needs people to increase it's abilities.

"iBreathe" is a lovely one.... Taking a big, cleansing deep breath is so wonderful and rejuvenating. Our own personal quick reboot where we can breathe in the strength we need to move forward, and breathe out the bad energies that our weighing us down.

But my favourite so far is "iNurture". Self nurture - your health, ideas, personal growth. And the nurture of others - people, animals, nature.

And on a lighter side, if you're wondering why I wrote "iKerfuffle" in the subject line, it's because Kerfuffle is such a great word!!! It means a predicament, or to-do, but for the quirky amongst us it may also refer to when you cough and fart at the same time!!! Now, there's no way a computer or other machine can do that!!!

When life gets too technical, consider claiming simplicity, and your own varied pace through life, back from the jaws of technology. It can be a truly liberating experience.

Love and hugs,
Dayle

Chipped Nail Polish

I actually love chipped nail polish. Not at first ("darn I've chipped it already!!"), but after a short while it reminds me that life ain't always about attaining and keeping lots of perfection in my life or being so critical of those things that aren't as I think they should be. It's about enjoying things as they come and living in the now. I can either adapt, learning to love the 'new', or I can see how or if I can fix or amend it. Or, as a bit of a metaphor for life, I can "mourn" the loss of my past 'perfect' nail or I can change how I feel about it. It reminds me of that good old serenity prayer, which talks about courage and acceptance when it comes to our realistic abilities at a particular time to act on an issue.

Chipped nail polish is like a mini tester of our ability to cope with change, or a loss in perceived quality of something. Do we go and fix the nail by repainting it, or do we, say, enjoy the new ragged look as a tiny reminder of trivialities and how life is full of so much more that is worth putting our energy into. It could even be a nice reminder of simpler days when, as a child, I'd paint my nails and leave the colour on as long as possible, seriously chipped and all.

So, chipped nail polish can be a good thing!

Love and hugs
Dayle