Making the Switch

Somewhere around my mid-to-late forties I noticed I was getting the same hit off unhealthy carbs as I was getting off my weed pipe in my twenties and that first glass of chilled wine in my thirties. But food addiction is socially acceptable so it can largely go unchecked for many years. Plus it took many years for me to reach the zenith of my food addiction. For years my fridge had to be full or I could not relax. The first thing I thought about in the morning was food and after I had finished breakfast I was wondering what to have for lunch. In the same way an alcoholic’s day and thought processes are ruled by drink my day and brain was ruled by food – and not even particularly healthy food. Wine was like my friend who popped in on the weekends and who I looked forward to spending some time with but food was my constant companion. My cravings were constant and all-consuming as the years wore on and I found myself listlessly roaming my house seeking comfort in food. Food gave me some structure, something to look forward to, especially when I was in recovery from burn out. My secret pleasure was watching food programmes. I loved nothing more than browsing the supermarket or food markets. I think it safe to say I was an avid foodie despite being fairly unadventurous in the kitchen myself. Ironically now I am becoming just that!

I have always loved my food and I had a healthy if conservative relationship with it but it started to become an unhealthy crutch as my thirties rolled on. I put this down to three factors; being stuck at home with small children, being creatively frustrated and as a way to suppress my emotions (or keep them at bay at least). A glass of wine with dinner (usually from Thursday though I would try to wait till Friday) only increased my appetite. I fancied myself as living in the Mediterranean with lunch rolling into dinner. Nigella Lawson was my heroine. For many years I was a human rubbish bin grazing on anything and everything and always eating my kids’ leftovers – if there were any.

As the years rolled by the weight piled on. The body positive movement didn’t help as it encouraged bad habits. I am a fan of body positive – in as much as it celebrates diversity in body types – but I am not a fan of promoting obesity which can cause any number of health issues and complications. This side of the movement is dangerous I think. Likewise with the other extreme which promotes underweight women and extreme fitness. Did you know that extreme fitness actually compromises your immune system?

I had always been 8 stone as a young woman and blessed with an hourglass figure but cursed with a steely drive. I had also been blessed with a strong constitution and body which I promptly abused with substances and that includes food. Too often people don’t include eating certain foods as substance abuse though they are quick to condone drink and drugs. People abuse food too. The healthier I get the more I regret my past life choices. In many ways I squandered my good fortune. My weight never fluctuated until my mid-twenties when it went down to 7 stone. By age 27 I was 6 stone whilst in the throes of a nervous breakdown. I was dangerously thin, even skeletal, for a few years. I gained a lot of weight with my first pregnancy and after I gave birth to my daughter my weight settled at 9 stone. I walked a lot pushing my baby girl in her buggy everywhere during this time and ate well so I was fairly healthy. I was also lifting a lot. I was however quite emotionally stressed due to practical factors (being a single mum with no car living in a remote area, house moves and financial issues mainly).

These stressful issues got exacerbated when I met my son’s father. By now I had learnt to drive. He experienced schizophrenia and we had to get involved with the mental health services. By the time he was transferred from the local unit to a maximum-security facility in the city in a prolonged psychosis I was pregnant with my second child. It must have been the most stressful pregnancy on record; two house moves, holding down a job at a local sports centre, a car crash in which my car was written off, doing a course (and applying for more), raising a toddler and dealing with the mental health services. Food was probably fuel and an after-thought though I always made sure my daughter was well fed. Incidentally both my kids have amazing taste palates; my daughter always loved avocados and pears and my son was an olive freak!

After 6 house moves I was blessed to be gifted an acre site in the beautiful valley I grew up in (from age 5) from my father to build a house on with an inheritance my grandmother left me. To this day I give thanks every day for my good fortune in this area. I practice the attitude of gratitude. For years I was angry that my grandmother had died and I wanted to give my inheritance to the homeless. Luckily my father didn’t facilitate this or I would have been homeless myself with two kids!

After my house was built and I moved in I was unprepared for the wonderful feeling of safety and security that having my own home for me and my kids would give me. I had never put down roots. I had always been on the move even in my childhood when I went between my mother and father’s houses and my boarding school in Cork city. Then as a young woman I had moved around a lot; changing accommodation, cities and countries quite frequently. You could say I was always on the run. I even used to eat on the move. Now here I was in one place, relatively unscathed with two wonderful kids. How lucky can one woman get?

So what did I do with my new-found freedom? Design a wonderful garden? Take up painting again? No I took on the Irish mental health services! I joined any grassroots organisations I could find who were challenging inhumane responses to human emotional distress. During this time I met and connected with people who had incredible stories and who had overcome massive adversity in their lives. I met people who were making their livings out of creating new paradigms and many who were doing it voluntarily for personal reasons. I worked hard and I believed in the work I was doing. I joined the Critical Psychiatry movement and I suggested the idea of a conference that gathered together people who presented different alternative responses to human distress. That conference is now an annual event.

All my hard work and campaigning culminated with the legendary Mary Raftery in my kitchen with an RTE camera crew. It was an honour to meet such a woman. Like any great human being she had razor sharp intelligence but was full of humility and compassion. She died of cancer not long after and I believe it was because she shouldered the backlash of the Ryan report. You can read about the Ryan report here https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Commission_to_Inquire_into_Child_Abuse. It was a huge honour to have a woman who changed the course of Irish history standing in my kitchen and interviewing me! There are no words to describe how surreal that experience was.

You may be wondering what any of this has to do with my weight or the food I eat! I am putting it all into context. By the time I had given up my mental health advocacy work I was completely burnt out. I even had Mary Raftery encouraging me to give it up and to focus on myself and my children. I decided my work in that area was done. I had said my piece – which was that force and drug maintenance was not a good enough response to human distress, that it was in fact a human rights violation. I had told my story in newspapers, on radios and now on national TV. It was time to leave the battlefield. Not only had I gone to war with the current paradigm but I had joined movements who proposed new paradigms. I was fighting on one front and creating a new one the other side. This was frontline work. I was also emotionally supporting a lot of people which was very draining. I was doing battle, nurturing, raising and creating all at once!

The energy it takes to go into battle is monumental so suffice to say the aftermath is an adjustment. I locked my front door and went to bed for a year. I was completely burnt out. The reason I have included all this back story is to give you some context.  During my battle with the mental health services I was pushing quite hard which probably meant I was releasing a lot of cortisol. Cortisol is used in fight or flight. Cortisol is also the hormone responsible for creating that spare tyre look around the middle that we all love and know so well. I believe I was quite unhealthy around this time because I drank a lot of coffee – though never after midday – and I would unwind with wine towards the end of the week. I would use food as fuel rather than give it much more thought that that. I had bigger fish to fry so to speak. I was macro and food was micro as far as I was concerned. I would eat large portions like a lorry refuelling and I would eat fast.

All that has now changed.

Now I believe it is more important to fix your own yard before you tend to others. At 40 I started therapy which has been a life saver. Around 43 I started realising that though I liked wine, wine did not like me or rather my body did not react well to it. It was the same with coffee. So I ditched my uppers (coffee) and my downers (wine). At 42 I noticed a change in my monthly cycle and by 45 I was in a bad place physically with excessive flooding – which I have written about elsewhere on this blog.

I now believe it was a combination of chronic extreme and prolonged stress over many years, my diet and my tendency to push my emotions down with food that created my weight gain. Over the years I developed the habit of going to the fridge or the cupboard if I was stressed, bored or emotional. Sometimes even if I was happy I would hit the fridge to celebrate. Any excuse huh! Pretty soon my weight crept up to 11 stone from 9 stone. According to the BMI (Body Mass Index) for my height and frame I was now officially in the obesity camp. I was still the right side of obesity but if this continued I was heading towards the wrong side of it which is morbidly obese. It didn’t help that I had girlfriends who were ignoring their own weight issues (we all did) and embracing the “body positivity” idea and boyfriends who celebrated my “curves” (my fat).

All I knew was I felt trapped in a body I no longer recognised as my own. I felt heavy and sluggish no matter what kind of a positive spin I or others put on it. Then I started to get cellulite on my knees. I think that was the point of no return when I thought maybe my life as I formerly knew it was over and I had been abducted. I gasped with horror when one day I saw just how much cellulite had accumulated on my legs. Due to excessive flooding for months on end I had gotten really out of shape physically. I did hardly any exercise and it was starting to show. At 5 feet 2 I was slowly turning into a tubby, chubby, short, round person. I would get breathless just running up the stairs. I had asthma and a whole host of other health issues were starting to form. At this rate I was heading for more problems down the road. I got myself tested for diabetes (no, thank god) and thyroid (all fine). I also discovered that overweight women suffer more in the perimenopause and menopause. From years of unchecked stress, over-eating and always trying to please others my hormones had gone haywire and were creating havoc in my body.

The first thing I did at around 44 was completely give up booze. It happened fairly organically, slowly starting at 42 but by 44 I could no longer finish a glass of wine without feeling awful so I switched to fizzy water and now eventually to just plain old water with a squeeze and a slice of lemon or lime in it.

The next thing I did was to increase my green leafy vegetable intake, mostly kale, rainbow chard and spinach whilst reducing unhealthy carbs. I increased my fresh vegetable intake in general; broccoli, cauliflower, beetroots, carrots (raw and cooked), leeks and salads. In conjunction with this I reduced my plate portions which in the past had been huge. I also cut out mashed potato with butter as I was getting acid reflux every time I ate mashed potato or chips. I replaced potatoes with sweet potato. I swapped white rice for brown rice. I bought quinoa and lentils. I completely cut out regular wheat pasta, white bread (sliced pan, wraps, bagels etc), biscuits, crackers and cakes. I now only eat cake at a special occasion.

Then I slowly reduced my intake of red meat (beef and lamb - which had reached unhealthy amounts in an attempt to manage my enemia) and increased my intake of fish, mainly fresh hake and tins of sardines (delicious with a generous squeeze of lemon and lime). I am researching other sources of iron aswell. I radically reduced my chicken intake as I am a blood group B and chicken is not good for us folk. Roast chicken is one of my favourites so I will let myself have it occasionally. I still eat eggs, yoghurt and cheese. I love whole foods, real foods and slow food. In other words I love good, healthy food. Since making the switch gradually I no longer have any cravings for junk for the first time in years. It is amazing. It is like being released from a kind of food prison.

I have completely eliminated packet foods with E numbers (gravies, stirfry sauces, seasonings etc) and replaced with fresh herbs and spices and organic vegetable stocks. I replaced sweet snacks with a variety of nuts and dried fruits so now when I get cravings I hit those instead of the biscuits or cakes or ice cream. There are no biscuits in my cupboard anymore anyway. And finally I drink more water and I move more, eat less. I try to take 1 hour exercise in walking every day. Doing some yoga is my next goal when I feel stronger. I also take supplements; vitamins A, B, D and C, magnesium, flaxseed or fish oil, evening primose oil and passiflora tincture to alleviate stress.

My target weight is 9 stone. So I have to lose 2 stone. I started at a size 10 and over the years I have crept up to a size 16 (in some cases 18). I was definitely heading to 18 next stop 20. I would be happy to be a 14 or a 12 now. We shall see. I am making the switch from unhealthy to healthy and it feels good. It feels like the right time and I feel ready to let all the layers fall off. I no longer need to protect or buffer myself with weight, hide behind it or stuff my feelings down with food. I need to find healthier ways to deal with my feelings – maybe by honouring them (but that is for another day, another blog post). Removing unhealthy foods and too much food has been like removing my security blanket rather like how a hoarder gathers stuff to insulate and cocoon themselves emotionally. I am also a bit of a hoarder so this will be the next issue I have to confront – my attic!

I have done all this food change programme in conjunction with a course in osteopathy over many months as it came to light that I needed to radically change my diet and lifestyle. Since changing my diet I have no acid reflux or incessant cough and my energy levels have increased. However I have developed headaches but I have heard this is common in detox – as it is withdrawing from drugs or drink. I am hoping these will go in time. I no longer feel like I need to abuse food in the same way that I abused drugs and alcohol. Food is there to support me not to swamp me. I have also slowly started to research herbs and restorative teas to support my journey towards health, healing and balance.

It can take a long time to address food addiction partly because at it's root it is an emotional problem and also because it is socially acceptable to eat - of course. We need food to live though what we eat can make us sick. 

RED MOON WISDOM

Now with hindsight I understand Nature’s plan better, biologically speaking, to make youth a more fertile time. If we obey the patterns our body dictates raising teens will not coincide with the trials, tribulations and perils of perimenopause. It makes more sense to have kids in your twenties; by the time they are just raised and out the door a woman can fully focus on herself and deal with the symptoms of perimenopause and menopause – which is a full-time job in and of itself. Then again a lot of things make sense with hindsight. Also if you have kids younger you get to enjoy the Granny and Great-Granny years more too!

The way I did things (first child at 30 and second at 34) meant I hit a perimenopause which started innocently enough at 42 but turned into a full-scale category red storm by 45 when my daughter turned 15 and my son 11. Just when my children needed me to be stronger I was at my weakest physically - which also effects one emotionally and psychologically. Hence I see why Nature in her infinite wisdom ideally prefers a woman to have children younger. It is very challenging raising teenagers at the best of times but a monumental task of epic proportions with the perimenopause thrown into the mix aswell. It is hard to be fully available to your kids’ needs and to help them navigate the world when your body is betraying you with flooding, exhaustion, hormonal changes, burn-out and endless fatigue.

However I also know that it is hard to contemplate the reality of children when you want to focus on study, work and career or adventure, experiences and parties or all of the above in your twenties! As we all know we can aim to have it all but we may have to pay the price somewhere along the line – perhaps our body does! What we gain in emotional and psychological maturity we lose in biological reality in the later years though. I had thought that 30 was the crossroads where these two paths converged but I see now that it meant I would hit perimenopause while my kids were in secondary school.

In saying all this, even with hindsight, I would not do anything different as I just cannot even imagine or contemplate my life without the two unique and very particular humans I brought into this world; my daughter and my son. I am just passing on the bigger picture I have seen. Besides if I had kids in my twenties it would have been an even rockier ride in many ways as I was a late bloomer! My early thirties was the perfect time for me but it was not without huge challenges and complications as I was told in my twenties it was unlikely I would even be able to have children! I proved them all wrong there!!

Many women will get through the perimenopausal and menopausal years with minimal support, others may need more but many women will need high levels of support. In her book The Wisdom of Menopause Dr Christiane Northrup writes about claiming our anger – a powerful signal from our inner wisdom – which often arises from:

Losing power, status or respect
Being insulted, undermined or diminished
Being threatened with physical or emotional pain
Not obtaining something we feel should legitimately be ours
Being unable to count on promises or commitments made to us
Having an important or pleasurable event postponed or cancelled to suit someone else’s convenience

CUBASE PSYCHOSIS

When it comes to the search for meaning by expressing oneself via art, creativity, whatever you want to call that curse, there are two things that I love doing; writing (prose, poems, essays, stories) and song-writing (lyrics, melodies and sometimes singing).

Writing is pretty easy to execute; all you need is a laptop or a notebook and a biro. Being the solitary sort - happy in my own company for the most part - this side comes easily to me. The worst side of it is I can’t type properly with my two hands (it’s more like two fingers!) and after some intense months long frenzies of writing I developed RSI in my right hand. Once it was so bad I had no use of my right hand or arm for 2 weeks and had to put it in a sling with a wrist support on and regularly apply something to ease the pain. The whole arm was in spasm.

It was around about this time, actually, that I decided to return to song-writing and singing, simply because it was shorter, faster, more visceral, emotional and produces an immediate result (like painting a wall) whereas writing a novel can be a bit like being sucked into a word tsunami soup for months on end with no discernible way out – other than writing your way out! Having two young kids made this endeavour even more difficult. Also I didn’t need my arm as I could record a short melody into my computer. I needed some mode of self-expression as the floodgates were open and suppressing it again may result in some other form of madness or restless discontent. I had buried my creativity out back for over 15 years as it was!

So I hit song-writing and singing again. I had intended to just do it as something to pass the time while my arm recovered but then got quickly hooked. At first it great; me banging away on the keys (arm and hand healed), writing the same song in slightly different versions over and over and over again in a somewhat primitive fashion. It served as an emotional release for me and I greatly enjoyed the chase of hunting the lyrical content aswell. I also loved the construction, like building with parts and words and sounds. I would just follow my intuition without really having a clue what I was doing technically but somehow knowing in another sense. Nailing a song gives me an intense sense of joy and fulfilment. I enjoy the process as much as the final result. And then I move on to the next one.

And then the honeymoon is suddenly over…

One of my many weaknesses is impatience. That coupled with an explosive (colourful) personality is a bad mix. To counteract these elements I shut down which also shuts down the creativity. I become nonchalant and vacant, not really there. This is apparently a feature of what is known in Vedic astrology as Ketu. Ketu is a destructive element that goes hand in hand with the creative element. I am frozen and all meaning is lost. I can literally sit motionless in the void for whole weeks – years previously, in my breakdown, after the initial hyperactive terror wore off (granted this lasted over a year) I sat in the void for the best part of 2 years just staring into it. Mute. Nothing. This is when the self-sabotaging starts – what’s the point anyway, I’m shit etc etc. Actually the self-sabotaging goes beyond that: I am invisible and I don’t actually exist. That is the real Ketu right there.

Now when this happens I can park Ketu, put on the mask and appear to all and sundry like a regular human. But don’t be fooled, I am just going through the motions. Inside me is the void and I sit in it, all you can see is my eyes shining out of a cave. My only company is a giant serpent. I am sitting in the unconscious blasted out of my head on meaninglessness. Fun stuff. By now I am used to the void and besides I know it’s part and parcel in the life of any artist.

The shut-down happened due to frustration. Once the initial novelty of writing songs wore off I was faced with no way to execute the songs, to produce them. When I was young I had spent some time in studios and recalled the experiences as exciting and overwhelming but ultimately fruitful. I also remembered a lot of sitting around and waiting. I knew my part and played my part (or should I say sang my part) but never did I pretend to understand what the hell was going on technologically speaking. Engineers and producers did that. I was just the lyricist and singer. Wasn’t that enough?

There are some things I prefer from the old days – like a singer was a singer and a soundman was a soundman - oh and yes there can be soundwomen too or sound people.

Years later and to cut a long story short I am attempting to work with Cubase as a total novice. Slowly I have started to face the cold, hard facts; Cubase gives me psychosis. Perhaps in it’s next edition the DSM can include “Cubase Psychosis: when patient exhibits an overwhelming desire to smash technology with a hammer and may actually do so if left untreated. Treat with Valium and anger management classes. In severe cases use a Clopixol depot shot to render the patient unconscious in case of danger to self and others (not to mention Cubase).”

It’s a great pity because having a home studio is ideal for introverted artists like me. But the truth is I need actual real life people to explain to me what the hell is going on, ideally explain nothing to me and just do it so I can get on with writing lyrics, melodies and singing (if I’m not crippled with asthma on that day – but that’s another post, another story). The problem is I have no fire for technology, no desire to learn how it’s done. I never wanted to be a producer or an engineer. That part of my brain is missing. I have a huge block there (possibly a disorder). I feel the same way about Cubase as I did about maths in school, I just don’t really get it.

It was the same when I tried to play electric guitar. I have zero aptitude for it and no fire to learn much as I admire the cool girls who do. But I am a different sort of creature. I am a primitive beast. I am Dionysus not Apollo. My fire is for distilling chaos into writing lyrics, melodies and sometimes singing and/ or performing. I pluck the ether instead of strings. I have other talents, other gifts – mainly tenuous but there you have it. Better to play to my strengths rather than my weaknesses. Isn’t it better I feel in my element rather than deeply inadequate out of it? I have a pretty good ear, OK pitch and can find the groove in a song lyrically and structurally speaking. This is pretty innate. I know my place. Shouldn't I just get on with what I do best? Again I can’t help feel this is a pity and not enough because if I had the technical know-how it would both liberate and empower me. Instead all it does is deeply confuse, frustrate and enrage me.

If I had loads of cash and success I would be the Johnny Depp of Cubase firing all manner of laptops and speakers out of studio windows the world over. Except if I had loads of cash I would probably hire a producer.

And this brings me onto the long-suffering Robert, long-suffering because he has had to work with me in the studio and Lord knows has this poor man tried to help me in the studio! His patience in this area with me is remarkable. He deserves a medal for putting up with me in the studio. He is self-taught on Cubase and possibly nothing prepared him for trying to teach me.

If I haven’t got asthma or am not threatening to smash up the studio he helped me set up I am planning my exit strategy from music. Talk about self-sabotaging dramas but here’s the thing, I can’t help it! I am 16 years old again and I’m in maths class. I am boggled by the whole thing with a mental block the size of a large continent. I want to cry or scream or both. I want to smash things I just don’t understand. I am out of my element just like I was attempting play electric guitar. I don’t do technology or electric guitars, I do lyrics and melodies. I love listening to electric guitars just like it gives me a sense of joy to watch someone who actually knows what they are doing in the studio, me in their capable hands rather than pretending I know how to perform open heart surgery or pilot a plane. Because that’s what Cubase feels like to me. It is a language I cannot fathom, a language I have no interest in other than getting my part of the job done.

I spend time trying to unlock the secrets of Cubase, each part more perplexing than the next. In Robert’s studio I intently watch what he does trying to take it all in, absorbing some of it. I watch videos on YouTube only to realise at the end of one that I have been thinking about lyrics or what to cook for dinner throughout the whole thing because the video is so mind crushingly boring and makes no sense to me whatsoever. Again like maths. Again a pity. I have no desire or fire to learn just like I have no desire to be a carpenter or a physicist. I have no desire to turn my songs into some head-wrecking DIY nightmare despite the fact that I was once in a punk-rock band! 

But nowadays that’s how it is in music. And everyone’s like isn’t it great we can do it ourselves? But I’m thinking no it’s just not great from where I’m sitting, it’s like saying I have to be a nurse and a doctor at the same time. I don’t know how the technology of sound works anymore than I know how to fix a car engine. I just seem unable to apply myself to something I basically do not understand. It makes my head hurt and eventually I see red, like a wounded wild boar or something.

I’m not even a musician never mind a producer. I am just not a technical person. All I do is write scraps of songs on scraps of paper, have ideas and concepts that are valid. But here I am expected to be the architect, draw the plans and build the house too. It’s too much. All I can say is screw that! Which is a pity I know.

What to do if the very thing that can liberate your creativity by taking it to the next level is the very thing that is killing your creativity? I used to like studios god damn it. Now I view them with dread and suspicion like I am in the queue for maths class.

However I can just about record a vocal track and that’s a huge achievement for me (and maybe enough), like I managed to just pass my lower level maths exams with extra tuition for theorems.

But, hey, why focus on scraping through lower level maths when I can get a grade A in honours English and art without even studying much. Isn’t it just a waste of time, like trying to get a lion to be vegetarian or a bear to use a public toilet?
 

RANT OVER AND OUT.

SELF-LOVE IN THE TIME OF COVID-19

I have been self-isolating for 3 years. I self-isolated for health reasons; a brutal perimenopause which had led to extreme flooding, chronic anemia and fatigue. I also self-isolated for transformational purposes. The two ran in tandem. I was making big changes in my life. I cut myself off from people for the most part and remained house-bound with a back-drop of psychological terror due to the process I was undertaking.

Ironically I was coming out of this process in Spring 2020 just as Covid-19 happened. I was just starting to enjoy feeling stronger and was looking forward to a bit more life in my life. Needless to say it has been very weird and surreal to watch as the world goes into collective self-isolation just as I was stepping out of it. Of course I am back practicing self-isolation now. I have retreated back into that by now familiar state.

This state will perhaps be nothing new for introverts who often choose to self-isolate as a way of life, practicing Buddhist monks, people with illnesses or chronic fatigue and those who are already isolated due to other challenging circumstances; in many ways for people on the fringes whose voices may not usually be heard as much in our society as the more popular extroverted “business as usual” mainstream, those with a more external focus.  

What we are in now is an involuntary collective global retreat and I watch as the issues I faced in my period of isolation play out around me on social media, in the news and it is a very strange sensation to say the least; to emerge from my experience into a global pandemic. COVID-19 is bringing things into sharper focus, getting rid of the superfluous and narrowing things down to what’s really important; our families, our loved ones whether across the globe or down the road, our relationship with ourselves, connection to self and others. Perhaps some people are re-assessing their lives due to the virus crisis. A lot is coming up for humanity so go easy on yourselves as we enter this phase and as it all comes up to the fore. We are going through this collectively; together in our apart-ness.

As a hardened and experienced self-isolationalist – is that even a word? – I can tell you this, especially if you are an extrovert or person who likes to keep busy: psychologically it may get worse before it gets better. You may have to go through a mental and physical detox. You may find yourself chomping at the bit without all of life’s distractions. You may experience "cabin fever" - or in my case "mountain fever". You may be coming up against your pain body triggered by the situation.

To add to this humans invariably struggle with limits. First you may try to deny it then you may bargain with it. You may get frustrated, angry and even terrorised as you come up against yourself, your life and the abyss. You may even rebel. Everything is amplified. In these uncertain days our usual routines have been disrupted and we are also up against fear and panic. Plus we are worried about our loved ones. These are challenging days. Perhaps I can pass on my self-isolation toolkit for these worrying times.

Half way through my self-isolation I wrote a piece called The Dark Woods Survival Kit. Perhaps now might be the time to revisit that piece.

The mornings are the worst because I wake up in a new reality, just like I woke up after my breakdown all those years before, and I don’t recognise anything. I am terrorised. Everything is different and for a split second in the moments between sleep and waking I sometimes forget but mostly I am awoken with the grip of terror around my throat, be it in the small hours of the morning or with the dawn.

Psychological terror is my constant companion. At night I sweat and wriggle with terror. In the day I strive to keep it at bay. My old familiar reality and coping mechanisms have been stripped away and all I have is terror. I am not yet used to this new reality. I had wanted to get into the arena of life but many days I had second thoughts and just wanted relief. I just wanted to go back to my old, cosy, familiar patterns even though they were killing me. I am not ashamed to admit my cowardice. My dilemma was to pick a poison; this one will kill you and this one could also kill you. Not changing was destroying me but changing could destroy me too. At least that was how it felt.

There may be a person, a catalyst or an event that propels you into the Dark Woods. For me it was my body bleeding, up to fifteen weeks of flooding. (Note: for the world right now it is a global pandemic).

When I closed my gate and started my co-dependency detox I was unprepared for the depth of despair I would experience. Perhaps subconsciously this was why I had been avoiding doing this part of the journey. When I stepped out of my assigned roles and set my boundaries I experienced a loss and terror so profound that it kept me awake night after night. Every morning was a new nightmare as I detoxed from my illusions and bled.

Change is painful. Change is hard. Change is lonely. Change is the one true constant and true change is challenging. Changing old patterns requires monumental courage.

This is when I discovered I was in between worlds in a kind of no-man’s land, where I could not go back and I could not go forward. I was stuck. This is what I came to know as the Dark Woods.

The Dark Woods are lonely and terrifying. They are a metaphor for psychological terror. They are your and my own personal, private hell, the no-go zone. The Dark Woods are somewhere to pass through, a transition. Transitions can be incredible times for growth and new potential. What is less talked about though is how incredibly painful and brutal they can be. Once you find yourself in the Dark Woods your goal is to survive the experience and find your way out the other side using the tools you have and the skills you have honed. You have to pass through the Dark Woods but it is not wise to let the Dark Woods devour or deceive you.

Here are some things that can help in the Dark Woods (please bear in mind this list was written with codependency detox in mind but self-isolation during a global pandemic has similar hallmarks)

Some light entertainment; believe me you are going to spend a lot of time alone while you make the changes so you are going to need Netflix, YouTube and books, lots of them. You may be too distressed and deranged to read but watch self-help lectures to reinforce your decision to improve/ save your life. You will need encouragement because everything and everyone else will be pulling you backwards not forwards. In these Global Pandemic days we all have each other to turn to albeit virtually and that can be of great comfort and the great enemy is fear which we face together.

Courage & Strength; I cannot overestimate how much of this you will need. You need so much of this because the going will be tough, painful, lonely and quite frankly awful. There will be many days when you want to quit and/or return to the comfort of familiar even if it is harmful to your health.

A roof over your head; your home will become your sanctuary, your safe space so surround yourself with all the things you like and more beautiful stuff. Paint your walls a new bold colour to herald the changes in. Declutter your house as you detox. Throw old patterns out along with old junk that has been hanging around your attic. Start writing that book you always wanted to write or embark on a gardening project or something that brings you joy.

Supports; Nowadays even during a pandemic thanks to technology we can access therapists, yoga classes as well as friends and other online supports. Extra supports could be healthy diet, (in these days make sure to boost your immune systems with lots of vitamins C and D) exercise, good sleep, your favourite kind of tea and entertainment to stop you going stark raving mad. You will need breaks from the intensity of the experience when you are putting the long, hard hours in. You will be engaging in psychological warfare with your head. Above all BE KIND to yourself during this time. Ultimately the experience will be more strengthening than devastating for us all - one hopes and prays - and we will inevitably be changed as we are by any big experience.

Me in my woman-cave in danger of turning into the duuude!

Here is a really heartening local article full of good advice: https://westcorkpeople.ie/columnists/returning-home-to-ourselves/?fbclid=IwAR0CpkBWWYxlcZuZGkPp-CxhWymZ5fmwQ0AlHmDUaKb2ussxV474tkOuhv4

There is a wealth of good resources online which I shall update here as I come across them.
https://www.irishtimes.com/opinion/una-mullally-corona-correction-cannot-be-unseen-or-unfelt-1.4209234?fbclid=IwAR2ZXfUziqJj8XedhjmyQ-YuyeNRh0inGtosrAKkE4gYLaZ9IzsRYcpNPy4

https://www.imaginalfutures.com/islands/and-the-people-stayed?fbclid=IwAR2_G3ziEB-ejNMI9N7rgRboMrQX-n01jE17RV-qxdgWA9c4IKs2B0twVSA

https://www.theguardian.com/world/2020/mar/25/why-its-healthy-to-be-afraid-in-a-crisis?fbclid=IwAR1y-SWgJpQc597qYRluV6wZeJ1i_3Y7fAZbRfLklyEkh-b1sXn7D246u8Q

The Upper Hand & the Lower Position; observations on human behaviour.

Perhaps there are four categories of people; people who like to take the upper hand, people who like to take the lower position, people who like neither and prefer equality and last but not least people who are bewildered and confused by humans in general. 

The people I have been most bewildered by is people who like to take the upper hand, who see nothing wrong in brazenly dominating others. We all know these people. They never ask, they just tell you what is happening. In other words, they are often bossy, entitled, opinionated, demanding, controlling, overbearing and intolerant. They pride themselves on taking responsibility for themselves - and usually everyone else around them, whether consensual or not.

I am less bewildered by the people who take the lower position as I have found myself trapped in this role at some stages in my life. It is a deeply unpleasant and thankless place to be. People in this position are often compelled by the impulse to please and placate. They are often codependent, passive, enmeshed, overly empathic, enabling people pleasers. In my naivety I thought that being pleasant and respectful was something I could be with everyone. However, 47 years (and much pain) later I have come to realise that not only is this dangerous but it is also not possible because some people simply do not speak the language of equality nor do they want to negotiate or navigate let alone contemplate this challenge. Many choose to stay in the dominant position and just as many choose to stay in the submissive position.

On observation of these positions I think both are ruled by fear. I believe that people who need to take the upper hand are, ironically, the most fearful of all. Anyone who needs that much control is a deeply fragile and insecure person deep down. The upper hand is weak and certainly not autonomous as it needs somebody to be in the lower position. The person in the lower position is less insecure but almost certainly co-dependent. Being co-dependent they fear asserting themselves. They have developed a pattern of focusing on others at the expense of themselves. More than likely they have been raised by a dominating person and an accommodating person. They lack the ability to set the boundaries that create a core sense of self.

Both are extreme and out of balance. Both can be manipulative in aggressive and overt ways or passive and covert ways. They can resort to primitive coping mechanisms and act on impulse without reflection. Some can even lack conscience. One assumes too little emotional responsibility, the other assumes too much. A healthy and whole person can navigate and negotiate opposites. They are more integrated and do not see the things in black or white. Sometimes our nature leans us one way or the other - dominating or accommodating - but in a healthy person we do not seek to harm ourselves or others, we do not need to cross lines and we know where one begins and the other ends.

In many ways I feel like I just got out of psychological prison. I feel like I am going home to my core self. In my life I have given away my power. I have almost always allowed others to assume the upper hand with me. I have been too accommodating at the expense of myself. Much of this came from a good but misguided place and also a fearful place. I could see that difficult, demanding and insecure people were in more pain than me and I wanted to help them. But it does not work by accommodating them. The best way to help others is to check into your true self and set boundaries in accordance with your values and needs as an individual. I was operating from a fearful place and had to destroy the out-of-date patterns that were holding me back. This in itself was terrifying terrain but that’s another story.

And this brings me to the third category of people. What does a person who is not interested in the upper hand or the lower position look like?

Firstly, they are not perfect. They are flawed but they basically like themselves. They have accepted themselves. They are good enough, secure enough and they don’t need to dominate others or be dominated by others to feel somewhat good about themselves. They do not need to lord it over others or grovel either. They do not seek to harm themselves or others. They enjoy equality and they welcome the challenges of negotiating this terrain. They like their own company, they do not have a hidden agenda and they find healthy outlets for their issues or anything that triggers them. They take responsibility for their issues. They are not afraid to look in the mirror. They have the courage to be themselves and this frees others up to be themselves too. They do not take their issues out on themselves or others. 

They are somewhat grounded, aware and balanced. They are not afraid to assert themselves or set boundaries when needed. They are not comfortable taking the upper hand but do not want to take the lower position either. They are curious and optimistic but realistic. They are accountable, reliable, flexible, integrated, have integrity, emotionally resilient and relatively straightforward. They are not running from themselves or the truth of who they are. They are not hateful or afraid. They let love rule in it’s truest form. They truly live and let live. They lift others up. They are not petty. They do the right thing even if it is the most difficult thing to do and take the road less travelled.

Affirmations I have found to be useful when dealing with people who try to assume the upper hand with me;

I have rights and can take my place as an autonomous adult with my own wants, fears, likes, dislikes etc.

I am only emotionally responsible for myself.

I do not need to accommodate others at my (or their) expense.

I do not have to take the lower position when others assume the upper hand with me.

I can protect myself from people who need to do this with me.

I cannot be manipulated with pity, rage or charm. 

I can walk away.

Then, last but not least, there is the fourth category of people, the most misunderstood of all the categories. These people live “outside the box”. They do not “play the game”. Often thinkers, dreamers, idealists, observers and visionaries they have little interest in gossip and drama. They are genuinely bewildered by such pursuits and by human behaviour in general. These people love ideas. They love to push the envelope. In many ways they stand outside society and recreate it by imagining new worlds. They can channel the collective unconscious. They are usually self-sufficient and work best independently.

These people are often misunderstood and often the target of teasing in their young lives because they are so different. They are dismissed as daydreamers and space cadets. They are viewed as slow even though they are unusually intelligent in a creative way. They are also sensitive and intuitive. They are often artistic and enjoy philosophising. Ironically they can be preoccupied with the human condition and the issues of love, death, meaning, mortality and ethics.

They are often artists, poets, writers, musicians and inventors. They can be spiritual; shamans, empaths, healers and leaders. They are often ahead of their time, out of step with their era but creating revolutions and evolution. They are outsiders but not anti-social. They want the best for society. They may lack etiquette and protocol or misread human behaviour. They have little interest in this side of life though they may try to fit in from the outside. They do not see the hidden agendas of people because they are uninterested in hidden agendas. In many ways this can be their downfall. They are interested in beauty, the human condition and often peace. 

These people often “mask” who they are to cope in a world that mostly rejects and ridicules them. If they are lucky enough to be accepted for who they can achieve great things and many do regardless. They usually encounter great adversity in their lives and traditionally are only appreciated or even acknowledged long after they die. I am not sure why this is the case but perhaps people feel threatened by this energy up close. Much is being done nowadays to appreciate these people while they are alive because although they are self-sufficient everybody has the right to be accepted, seen and taken seriously for who they really are. 

My Body Holds The Score

Being selfless made me get sick; not selfless as in the act of service from a place of abundance (or at times necessity) but the compulsion to be selfless due to some kind of intergenerational trauma and dodgy cultural conditioning that I have to accommodate everybody I come into contact with at the expense of myself. Being this selfless creates a dark shadow self that can erupt; the kind of shadow demon that takes you on a road trip with an independent girlfriend and next thing you know you’re picking up hot hitch-hikers, robbing gas stations and driving off a cliff all whilst swigging on a bottle of Jack Daniels in cool shades (OK I just quoted Thelma and Louise but you know what I mean… besides my twenties are over, though they were never THAT exciting). Just to clarify by sick I mean adrenal fatigue, asthma, chronic anemia, extreme exhaustion, burn out, flooding and chronic vitamin D deficiency.

You can see why lots of women go off the rails in their forties and fifties heady with a new-found freedom, a second adolescence if you will. First time round we were let out of school and released, like wild horses bursting out of their gates in a race, onto horizons of possibilities. This second time round we have been released from the shackles of (some) responsibilities and societal expectations. Our souls are growing. The kids - if we have kids - are growing up, our lives are getting more freed up and we have ditched a lot of the insecurities that dogged us in our youth even though it can be a challenge to shed those identities, however toxic. It’s better the devil you know than the devil you don’t and all that. 

Now we don’t care so much what others think and we don’t have so much to prove. We have survived the mincemeat machine of motherhood if we are mothers. We are stronger now with more experience under our belt. We have weathered traumas, disappointments and disillusionment. It’s not so easy to pull the wool over our eyes. Freedom has been hard earned and we aren’t about to give it up easily without a fight. The main thing is we want to please and suit ourselves finally. No more putting OUR LIVES on hold. I have found this is a unanimous battle cry of women in this stage of life pretty much across the board. After years of minding people, caring about others feelings and lives you finally embrace your own. And though driving off into the sunset in a convertible sounds exceptionally appealing (after years of washing dishes and picking up dirty socks) it is probably not as easy as it sounds. Nothing ever is!

One of the reasons driving off into the sunset in a care-free convertible is not so easy, besides maybe not having the money to buy one in the first place or just being too damn tired to, is the issue of health. Something I have noticed with many of my friends at this juncture in their lives is that just as they reach some landmark which will mean more space and time for them that opens new opportunities – the kids are becoming more independent going off to secondary school or college or they leave a toxic relationship or marriage or they have a career change, for example – they are struck with an illness that floors them. Or they have gradually - or suddenly - become plagued by fatigue and peri-menopausal symptoms that obliterate their regular patterns and lives. Suddenly we are confronted with our past and how we treated ourselves. The chickens come home to roost, as they say, it’s pay day and this often happens unexpectedly. It is rather like when you prepare for giving birth for the first time, nothing can really prepare you for it. I started therapy at 40 to reflect on my past and deal with it but nothing prepared me for it when I got hit by what I shall call “the flood”.

I was hit with flooding and fatigue to end fatigues. Or perhaps I should call it blooding. It has been brutal and debilitating. I won’t bore you with the details, besides you can read all about it here in one of my previous blog posts https://madchicklit.blogspot.com/2019/06/the-descent-demons.html  All I can say is I became a CEO in Blood Management. I bled so much it was impressive.

This month I finally got round to seeing an osteopath after 2 years of going around the houses with doctors and medical people. This osteopath confirmed what I already knew but still it blew my mind. The power of our body’s intuition, our deep “knowing” that society with its’ demands and in some cases doctors steer us away from. We know. I know. I know I have been repressing stuff, putting off my life until tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow because as we all know, tomorrow never comes. Due to circumstance I had to repress a lot. We all have to. This is called reality, it’s called society, it’s called compromising and coexisting. Except that some people are existing more than us!! How long can our bodies and souls take it before they start to rebel? How long before they start sending us messages, loud and clear, that the body says NO. That, actually, we say No.

Incidentally this is probably one of the best lectures I've seen on the body saying NO; https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c6IL8WVyMMs&t=11s Watch it and set boundaries now!

Well I’ll tell you. It all kicks off just when you think you’ve got your stuff sorted! So unfair but it seems to unfold this way.

I went to the osteopath about my hip but she says it’s much deeper than that (though I do have a sore hip too). She is my witness. She tells me things I already know but now need to bring out into the light, not hold them inside like shameful secrets anymore. She told me I have a very old “fight, flight or freeze holding pattern” in my spleen, liver and kidneys. The “holding” has been so great over many years that the nerves into my womb and bowels have been blocked; hence problematic menstruation (like the endometriosis in my teens and the extreme flooding and ovarian cyst now) and constipation. They are so tightly constricted in a sac rather like the womb sac a baby forms in that they are causing all kinds of imbalances in my body. Eventually this becomes like a spiral, a pit that gets harder to get out of.

I am both relieved and saddened by the information I receive; relieved because I wasn’t imagining these things and saddened because I let it get to this stage before I cared enough to address the issue. But I tell myself now is the right time because I wasn’t ready till now. It is never too late. True healing can be done at any stage of life even on your death bed. My body is mirroring my mind. I have been told I have Complex PTSD and my body mirrors this. Basically my body also has Complex PTSD. The wisdom of all this both amazes and humbles me. I feel great gratitude to my body and I thank her. I am forming a deeper relationship with my body now; one that listens and honours her rather than abandoning myself to focus on others’ needs, desires, wants, demands etc.

Check out the wisdom and intelligence of the body and how nature adapts to it's environment. My fight, flight or freeze holding pattern was in my spleen, liver and kidneys. Emotionally the spleen “holds it all together”. I have often bemoaned how I “hold it all together” for others, park myself, become invisible and hold the space.

Emotionally the liver harbours resentments and anger. How could I possibly not feel resentment throughout life? Even if I did not admit it or consciously birth it, how can a woman not feel resentment in this culture? So much is expected of us that it is impossible. But we soldier on with brave faces and putting up and out. Plus we have to deal with the internal voices which can be cruel rather than kind. The thing to do is to turn my anger into positive action – exercise or a creative project I have always wanted to do or something healthy and transformative. But not sit on it and let it stagnate. It is also important to get support with deep-seated anger as you don’t want to take it out on nearest and dearest which is often how it happens. We are each responsible for our emotions and underneath rage is often grief and pain. It is best to navigate these waters with a professional and ask others around you for space if a lot is coming up.

Lastly, but by no means least, the kidneys. Emotionally the kidneys hold fear. Having survived terror states and general anxiety, existential angst and neurosis throughout my life I would say my kidneys have taken a pounding. The pattern with me is to just “get on with it” regardless of fear. Feel the fear and do it anyway. I treat fear like an annoying princess-y friend who is so high maintenance she makes your eyes roll to the back of your head. I am both brave and proud, perhaps a tough mix for my kidneys. For much of my life I have joked that I am Jane Wayne (John Wayne’s macho and emotionally retarded sister). I can tough things out that might make others’ toes curl. I push hard and I push through. I will go where others fear to tread. I will go anywhere but to my vulnerable place which is of course where I need to go. Speaking of vulnerability here is a must watch on it https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iCvmsMzlF7o 

I would rather saw my leg off than ask for help though in true complex, contrarian style I am both squeamish and terrified of getting sick and of death. I am psychologically brave despite feeling fear but physically I am a wimp when it comes to anything going wrong. Though I will rally if I have to, like the time I pierced my eyeball by accident with a gorse thorn and had to drive my car to the doctor’s with a bleeding eye or like the time I got my teeth drilled using no anesthetic (every time he hit a nerve I jumped out of the seat) or giving birth naturally for that matter.

I find it hard to receive because I can be deeply suspicious of why someone is giving me something in the first place and yet I love to give. I can be both naively trusting and open or distrustful and edging towards paranoia in certain situations. In saying that, I can surprise myself by being happily receptive if the energy feels right. My fear is to feel beholden or bound by someone and by duty. My fear is that if I receive from someone my self expression could be compromised. I have some anxiety around receiving but I am allowing myself to feel the fear and receive anyway! I always like to know where the Exit sign is then I can relax. I guess you could call me independent. I like to be respected as an autonomous person. I like to take things very, very slowly. I am not half a person, I am whole in myself. I am very tired of people crossing my boundaries. I am tired of people not knowing what boundaries are. I am tired of having to set them. I do not like to be “possessed” and neither do I like to “possess” someone. I like true freedom however painful that may be and I know it costs a lot. I have been quite uncompromising in my inner sanctum and that has made my life much more difficult in some ways. On the other hand I take great pride in this because like Frank, I did it my way! 

Mostly though, I feel like some kind of freak in that department because I do not seem to want what women are meant to want. I would like some love but just not to be dominated by that. I fought long and hard to get where I am today and I don’t want to compromise too much because it makes me feel uneasy, like I might lose my footing and never win back my own agency. I don’t want to end up some doormat. I don’t want to die for love. I’m not sixteen. Even then I did not want to die for love. Actually I wanted to go to the library and read about it without having to do it. It’s an awful effort having to actually do it. What can I say? I was an old lady trapped in a sixteen year old brunette bombshell. I have discovered that relationships are hard work for everybody; women or men.

My kidneys have taken a bashing from the “no nonsense” approach of Jane Wayne who is best exemplified by central protagonist Imperator Furiosa in Mad Max: Fury Road. That character basically sums me up. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TkRM7-DjpR8 If I watch this movie again I must stop and think about how living life like Furiosa effects my poor exhausted kidneys not to mention my adrenals. Clearly I have been operating from my more masculine energies presumably because my feminine has not felt safe to emerge. I have been working with this for a few years now and gaining confidence in this area though. 

In kidneys there is kidney yin and kidney yang. Yin is female (receptive, passive)  and yang is male (giving, active). 

My body holds the score. There is a wealth of knowledge stored in our bodies. My next challenge is to listen to my body and honour her. This might mean admitting that I’m tired of holding it all together, I’m feeling resentful or I’m scared. I am scared of being controlled or devoured so I can avoid aspects of relationships. I am scared of other people’s needs because they may engulf me. I am afraid of being rejected due to my own needs. My need for space and freedom is so vast that I feel like no one will understand me or no one on earth could put up with me so I hide that side of myself like a shameful secret. However much I love solitude I love people too and so I will always need the acceptance of society and loved ones. As for approval, I can live without it now.

Now that I think of it, I always could. One day you wake up and realise you always knew you; you just abandoned you, neglected you, ignored you, silenced you or thought you were not what other people wanted so you changed you. But now you can reclaim, become, return or just love you as you are. Embrace you. Be you. 

Here is a beautiful quote about self-care to ponder on

“Self-care is often a very unbeautiful thing.

It is making a spreadsheet of your debt and enforcing a morning routine and cooking yourself healthy meals and no longer just running from your problems and calling the distraction a solution.

It is often doing the ugliest thing that you have to do, like sweat through another workout or tell a toxic friend you don’t want to see them anymore or get a second job so you can have a savings account or figure out a way to accept yourself so that you’re not constantly exhausted from trying to be everything, all the time and then needing to take deliberate, mandated breaks from living to do basic things like drop some oil into a bath and read Marie Claire and turn your phone off for the day.

A world in which self-care has to be such a trendy topic is a world that is sick. Self-care should not be something we resort to because we are so absolutely exhausted that we need some reprieve from our own relentless internal pressure.

True self-care is not salt baths and chocolate cake, it is making the choice to build a life you don’t need to regularly escape from.

And that often takes doing the thing you least want to do.

It often means looking your failures and disappointments square in the eye and re-strategizing. It is not satiating your immediate desires. It is letting go. It is choosing new. It is disappointing some people. It is making sacrifices for others. It is living a way that other people won’t, so maybe you can live in a way that other people can’t.

It is letting yourself be normal. Regular. Unexceptional. It is sometimes having a dirty kitchen and deciding your ultimate goal in life isn’t going to be having abs and keeping up with your fake friends. It is deciding how much of your anxiety comes from not actualizing your latent potential, and how much comes from the way you were being trained to think before you even knew what was happening.

If you find yourself having to regularly indulge in consumer self-care, it’s because you are disconnected from actual self-care, which has very little to do with “treating yourself” and a whole lot do with parenting yourself and making choices for your long-term wellness.

It is no longer using your hectic and unreasonable life as justification for self-sabotage in the form of liquor and procrastination. It is learning how to stop trying to “fix yourself” and start trying to take care of yourself… and maybe finding that taking care lovingly attends to a lot of the problems you were trying to fix in the first place.

It means being the hero of your life, not the victim. It means rewiring what you have until your everyday life isn’t something you need therapy to recover from. It is no longer choosing a life that looks good over a life that feels good. It is giving the hell up on some goals so you can care about others. It is being honest even if that means you aren’t universally liked. It is meeting your own needs so you aren’t anxious and dependent on other people.

It is becoming the person you know you want and are meant to be. Someone who knows that salt baths and chocolate cake are ways to enjoy life – not escape from it.”
-Brianna Wiest