New Beginnings

My "Dark Passenger" and me

New Beginnings

Hello people, I hope we are all well today.

I realise that I haven't posted in a while and I would like to explain why, if that's alright?

I have been taking some time out to reflect on my illness, why I have ended up in the pit once again and I have realised something. The only person who can help me out of this dark and dreary place, is me. 

I have a choice. Either I can continue feeling hopeless and keep on digging, or I can do something about it and fight back.

Believe it or not, we all have the strength within us to fight. It may not feel like it and it may seem impossible, but we do. Getting out of bed in the morning is fighting. Making ourselves go into work when we don't feel we have the energy is fighting. Doing the chores around the house is fighting. The smallest of things that may seem humungus at the time will start to shrink the more you push and exert yourself. If you act confident (even if you feel like crumbling yourself up into a ball) you will, in turn, become more confident.

I'm sure I have already mentioned, but I have been back at work for a while now, and although not all of the problems I encountered have gone away, I have started to become more assertive (hard as this is for me!) Our team are finally heading in the right direction, which, I think, has boosted morale, and are starting to achieve goals we have set out for ourselves. Me included. 

Again, without going too much into my job, I can say that I successfully managed and closed a case on my own (obviously with the team, but me as the lead nurse) and I can't tell you how amazing that felt. To know I had made a difference, to know that I had helped, to know that I CAN do my job, is priceless.

With that, came more self-esteem, which, in turn, made me feel more positive about myself and my general development in my career. 

As well as this, Dave and I have been building and getting closer. He is actually beginning to think about a future with me, which, a year ago, would never have happened. 

Again, my self-esteem, self-worth and confidence has grown. I have always dreamed of a future with Dave, but due to his own demons, this was not something he was willing to discuss. Now, for whatever reason, this feels achievable. 

I had my first Staff Counselling session today and I actually think the guy was taken a-back at what I had to say. 

Yes, I vented. I aired my concerns and what I thought had impacted on my mental health, but I went with goals. Things I would like to improve on and develop. Assertiveness being the key aspect.

Assertiveness is the ability to be confident and direct in claiming one's rights or putting forward one's views. My issue being that I struggle to do so when I am faced with an aggressive person. Weirdly, I do not have this issue when dealing with patients (though it has happened!), my issue is with co-workers. I find it very difficult to "fight my own corner" or "stand up for myself" when someone is shouting, being negative (criticising in an unconstructive manner) or belittling/humiliating me. Although this shouldn't happen but often does, I feel that if I became more assertive, I could implement this in all aspects of my life. 

The counsellor was surprised but happy that I had clear, achievable goals and I think these sessions are going to greatly benefit my confidence. 

I suppose what I'm trying to say is, today felt like a new beginning for me. The restart button has been pressed and I feel as if I am ready to make a change. 

Be proud that you have made it through another day. Be proud that you are fighting back, even if it is small to begin with. Be proud of being you. 

When you are ready, you will understand the feeling I had today, and I hope that day will come to you all soon, as it is like a weight has been lifted and I am now ready for the uphill climb. 

For today though, I hope you all have a lovely day beautiful people! 

~ x X x ~

An Unfortunate Lift

Good afternoon folks, I hope we are all well. I have a wee treat in store for you today; a short story written by a good friend of mine, Harry Novak. I present to you;

An Unfortunate Lift

The old Great North Road; four hundred and ten miles of concrete and tarmac connecting London with Edinburgh since 1921; it passes through around eight English counties before it arrives at the Caledonian capital.  These days, of course, it is no longer as heavily used as the nearby modern motorways, which have more than superceded its status and function.  The road is still regularly used however and several sections have been upgraded to motorway status, allowing cars to roar down it at seventy miles per hour in a haze of polluting exhaust.  It is one particular section of this old road that it is worth focusing your gaze on for the duration of this tale; this being the Darrington to Dishforth area that then leads on to Scotch Corner.  Constructed near to the old mining town of Pontefract many an adventure seeking family have joined the old road on the way to a coastal holiday in Whitby or Scarborough.    The road is relatively quiet though, this is normal for one o’clock in the afternoon, only the occasional car or speeding motorcycle glide across its cracked tarmac surface.  The day is warm with a pleasant spring breeze which gently caressed the face; the grass on the side of the road is becoming a pleasing shade of green and trees nearby are beginning to reawaken.  Along the side of the road, usually reserved for breakdowns and remonstrations from the local constabulary, there stands a figure.  An extremely well-dressed figure it must be stressed; as our mind’s eye draws closer we can see that the figure is a tall and well built man with dark, stylishly cut hair.  His skin is tanned in the smooth, easy way that owes more to genetics than bizarrely named creams and expensive tanning salons.  From the cut of his dark suit and design of his glittering wrist watch, this man would not strike the casual observer as being someone who could not part with cash on a whim.  The black leather of his hand made Italian shoes is marked with soil and flecked with grass, a fact that is causing him considerable annoyance.  If one were to look closer at this lavishly dressed man you would notice that his clothing is somewhat dishevelled and grass stained.  A leaf has somehow become wedged in the button hole of his black silk shirt and sweat pours down his chiselled, handsome face.  He appears flustered and agitated and his normally exquisite face drips with sour smelling sweat that stains his immaculately ironed collar.  He has lost his mobile phone and is entirely enraged by this; he would not be standing at the verge of the old Great North if he had been able to dial a taxi.  He composes himself with an iron will and lifts his chin in a haughty manner; a deadly arrogance emanates from his very core, attractive to some, fatal to most.  He formulates a plan using his powerful and lightning intellect that is chiefly responsible for his excessive wealth and prosperity.  Holding out his clenched fist with only an extended thumb missing from the formation, he assumes his practised “trusting” expression and smiles in a manner that would corrupt the most pious of saints.  It is scarcely less than five minutes before a car indicates left and slows to a halt beside him.

The obliging car was in fact a 1969 1.8 VVC track Mini with a semi space frame.  Not that the expensively attired cybarite was aware of this nor indeed he care one jot, he was intent on finding a way off the road.  The passenger door eased open with barely a creak and the driver beckoned the man inside with a languid hand movement.  The man did not need a second invitation and eased his muscular form onto the faded seat with a grace that would have filled the most skilled dancer with admiration and envy.  Automatically adjusting his suit he turned to meet his unknown chauffeur with a disarming smile and searching eyes.  “Thanks for the lift mate it’s a big help, my name’s Mike.”  The driver, who by this point had set out onto the road and was, driving at a steady seventy miles per hour, inclined his head towards Mike.  He was a slim black man with a bald and slightly pitted skull; he appeared to have suffered from some form of skin infection that had permanently pock marked his skull but ignored his face.  He was clean shaven and his face was entirely devoid of lines or wrinkles so that he appeared to be a fairly young man.  It was only his bright searching eyes that practically glowed that gave an indication of a more advanced age.  He was clad in a faded suit that looked as though it had once been worth a pretty penny but had since lost its dashing appearance.  He spoke in a calm and measured voice that seemingly had no discernible accent, “You are very welcome Mike; the side of a busy road is no place to be even in decent weather.  I’m heading up to Middlesbrough, would that be suitable for you?”  Mike was momentarily lost for words; this was an unfamiliar experience for him as he was famous for his silver tongued dialogue.  There was something about his driver that unnerved him more than a little yet he could not put his finger on why.  Unease evoked by another was also something Mike was not used to; he himself was certainly not above using manipulation and intimidation to bend others to his will and sadly it was his preferred method of doing business.  He grunted inaudibly and exerted his iron self control over his mind, telling himself to stop being so weak and stupid.  “The Boro eh?  That’d work well for me actually; I’ll pay you for your trouble of course mate, what’s your name by the way?”  The driver grinned and revealed a set of perfect white teeth that gleamed brightly.  “I won’t be needing any money my friend, and you can call me Jacob.”  The sense of unease sat in the pit of Mike’s stomach but he was able to relax a little. “Fine then mate but only if you’re sure, nice to meet you anyhow.”  Jacob just smiled in response and continued with the mechanics of driving a car on a long stretch of road; overtaking, indicating, braking.  Mike's thoughts turned to the enraged man who had chased him from his home, he would almost certainly seek some form of redress; Mike almost regretted fucking his wife for the past two months.  The feeling of regret did not last long nor did he spare a thought for the lives he had damaged and the bonds he had torn. He gave a sullen grunt and turned towards Jacob with faux smile back in post,” So what do you do Jacob?  Are you local?”  Jacob smiled enchantingly and flicked a glance towards Mike, “I suppose you could say that. I work with people on very much a one to one basis; I offer advice and assistance and aim to steer them towards logical conclusions.”  Bloody do-gooder was Mike’s first thought but he decided to keep up the pretence of interest and affability.  “So are you like a counsellor then?  Do you run your own business?  I’m in the financial game and I definitely know one or two characters that could use your help!”  He gave a deep belly laugh that was both pleasing and entirely disingenuous at the same time.  He had perfected this laugh over many years of pursuing and defeating weaker business opponents; it lulled people into a false sense of security and had enticed many a woman to his silken sheets.  Very few could claim to have derived perpetuating satisfaction from this experience.  Jacob had ceased smiling though his eyes continued to sparkle with mirth, “I’m quite sure you do Mike, more people have need of my services than you can possibly imagine.  Now, as we will be spending some time together I have a proposal for you, a game if you will, to pass the time constructively.  Are you interested?”  Mike shifted uneasily for the second time in his experience as Jacob’s passenger.  The feeling of something being out of place and somehow wrong had returned in a stomach gripping way and he recalled with a grim distaste the feelings he had experienced when his father had reached for the seventh glass of whisky.  Any number of glasses of cherry aged gold was acceptable and had often made his father jovial and benevolent.  Seven and onwards had meant trouble and pain that still made him want to vomit in fear.  Immediately chastising himself for these ridiculous notions he once again exerted the rigid control that had made him a feared financial predator and authority figure.  “Yeah go ahead mate; it’ll be a laugh for a couple of hours I suppose.”  Jacob’s eyes narrowed to slits and a smile that revealed not one of his luminescent teeth stretched his lips.  “Very good Mike; I can guarantee you’ll find it informative and useful.  Are you ready to crack on, as they say?”  Mike nodded and his taut, muscular form and features displayed not a symptom of the anxiety he was currently experiencing.  As Jacob cleared his throat to begin whatever game he had planned, Mike realised that a need to urinate had presented itself.  At present it was but a minor need and he dismissed it as such.  He would regret such summary dismissals in the near future.  The Great North Road stretched on….

                                *

Jacob had acquired a serene and almost trance like expression that appeared to flow throughout his entire form.  He continued to focus on the faded grey tarmac of the road in front of him with a beatific smile.  “Humour an old man by answering this question Mike; I can assure you it’s part of the game.  Think long and hard for a moment, and then tell me what you believe to be your purpose in the world, your reason for existing if you like.  Don’t worry, there’s no right or wrong answer.”  Mike was momentarily confused and shifted in his small and worn seat.  The feeling still stewed in his stomach as though he had a bowel upset and he felt the familiar burning of acid reflux.  His usually powerful will was slipping away from him like the first few pebbles of a landslide.  He had an idea that he would ask this strange man to drop him off at the next service station; he would fabricate some yarn about having an important business call he had to make.  He had never struggled with fabrication and general truth bending to achieve his ends.  He had to answer his driver’s question first however. “Well, I’ve never really given that much thought to be honest.  I suppose if I was to give a reason as to why I was here it’d be to live my life in the way I see fit and have fun.  Anything else is a bonus.”  The words slipped from his mouth in a far more casual manner than he had thought possible given his current situation and mental state.  Jacob did not answer immediately though it seemed to Mike that his grip tightened considerably on the steering wheel.  Mike felt a surge of anger pass through him which passed as quickly as it had flared.  His arrogance assumed full control of himself once more; he did not like being challenged or threatened in any way and the world was littered with the remains of those whom he had considered his enemy.  He was confident he could splatter this stupid and nosy little man around his antique car should he try anything.  The urge to urinate had grown stronger, though for now he was able to ignore it with only a modest effort of will and bladder control.  He decided to do some questioning of his own and see how this little prick liked it, “How about Jacob old son, why do you think you’re here?  To drive around in antique cars?”   Jacob made a chuckling noise in the back of his throat and his face resumed its serene expression and he inclined his head towards Mike once again, “Oh, I’m not sure I know in my case.  I once did but the events of my life have convinced me that there is neither reasoning nor explanation for my circumstances; but I’ve rambled enough so let’s get back to you.”  Jacob adjusted himself in his chair slightly and drew in a long draught of the slightly stale car air.  “I’m afraid I must admit to playing you false with my choice of question; at least with the meaning of that question.”  Mike suppressed a scowl in a muscle straining exercise; he was beginning to dislike this man intensely.  “Oh yeah, taking the piss a bit are you?  I reckon that’s a bit iffy mate, ‘specially for someone you’re giving a lift to.”  Jacob laughed in a rather musical fashion that contained more than a hint of mockery.  “Please do not be angry Mike, it’s only a game after all and you certainly appear to be a man who views life as nothing more than a great game.  Now, shall I reveal to you why you are in my old car in a dishevelled state?”  Mike shifted his body weight and tensed his considerable muscle mass to a state of vindictive readiness.  He didn’t know what game this bizarre fool was trying to play with him and he loathed the feeling that he was not fully in control of his present circumstances.    He suspected that the man was a smack head of some sort; he was confident he could hurt him enough with one blow to gain control of the car and skid into the hard shoulder.  First though, he would play along.  “I can hardly wait can I?”  He said as haughtily as he could manage and with more than a hint of derision.  Jacob had stopped smiling entirely and an oily shadow appeared to pass across his face, masking his features.  Only his eyes appear to blaze with an incandescent light, a light which now immolated Mike as Jacob turned towards him.  “You are here Michael Blackshaw because you have been having intercourse with the wife of a man who has always considered you a close and most trusted friend.  You have seduced her over a period of several months and she now believes that you are in love with her and would remove herself from her home to a life of decadent luxury in yours.  Am I incorrect in any way?”  Mike seethed and ground his teeth together; a habit he had had since he was a boy that his father had failed to beat out of him.  He was now certain that this bastard was some sort of private investigator hired to discredit him.  He had made many powerful business enemies over the years; many of these enemies ran “businesses” that were not necessarily on the right side of the law of the land.  He had always been able to manipulate matters to his advantage and had so far escaped any serious reprisals for his tactics over the years.  He had even implicated his own brother, that worthless, wretched little puke, in a hedge fund scam that, of course, had been entirely of his own devising.  “Stop the car on verge you little bastard, or I’m going to knock your fucking teeth out, understand?”  Jacob laughed in a manner so ghoulish that the pain in Mike’s bladder became a searing rusted spike which threatened to rip through his body; it was all he could do not to piss in his silk underwear.  His blood boiled, fighting the freezing waves of fear that coursed through his body; he decided he had had more than enough of this little shit.  He clenched his fist so hard his knuckles threatened to pop out through his flesh; he would break the bastard’s nose and yank the car to the side of the road and leg it out, he reckoned he could be away before any sort of authority arrived.  Mike clenched his teeth and flicked his right fist out in a vicious jab intended to fold Jacob’s nose over like cartilage origami; a flicker of savage joy pulsed in his stomach and groin, savouring the opportunity to cause harm to another.  Mike had long thrived on this drug-like sensation; as long as he felt it, he knew he could not be hurt by others and the dark memories of pain and abuse were pushed into the dank cellar of his mind.  His vicious and sadistic ambition was not to be realised however; for the moment his speeding fist entered the orbit of Jacob’s head, a freezing, rending sensation paralysed his very being.  He felt as if the marrow in his bones was freezing and snapping like icicles hanging from a frozen gutter; his muscles were rigid and his tendons cracked.  His bladder, which by now was a searing cauldron filled the hottest pitch, voided itself in a hot foul smelling stream.  Mike tried to speak but his dystonic vocal chords could not even manage a strangled and truncated yelp, the pain had driven him to the borderlands of raving insanity in the space of mere seconds.  A moment before he truly believed that he might implode in his own muscles and bodily fluids the feeling stopped as suddenly as it had been inflicted.  Mike sagged in his belt and wept silently; his father had extra special punishments for loud sobbing, often involving a trip to a dark place where all he could smell was mould and his father’s whisky stinking breath.  His urine, already starting to dry, stung his nostrils with a shameful odour that evoked humiliation and misery.   Jacob cleared his throat and focused on the road ahead, his face now entirely devoid of expression or emotion.  “Now Mike, you needed to experience that so that you can be under no mistaken impressions about the deadly seriousness of your situation.  Calm yourself as much as you are able and listen to what I’m about to outline to you.  After that, I’m going to give you a choice; the one you make will transform your life so completely it will be unrecognisable as the existence you played out before.  Do you understand?”  Mike nodded miserably, a state of exhausting had shackled him to seat and he was entirely unable to speak, much less strike again.  Jacob nodded curtly, “Good, now listen carefully, it won’t get repeated.”

“To put it quite bluntly Mike; you are an extremely callous, egotistical and manipulative man.  You have spent much of your life using others for your own selfish profit and you have humiliated and devastated any and all who have opposed you.”  Mike, without really acknowledging he was doing it, gave a barely perceptible nod that dislodged some of the tears that had welled in the corner of his eyes like fat oil drops.  The tears landed in his lap to blend with the increasingly stale urine that had formed a swampy patch on his trousers, the odour of which continued to fill him with a burning shame.  He was broken and utterly defeated and unlike most wounded beasts, had neither the stomach nor will to fight back.  Jacob appeared eerily placid as he continued his savage indictment of Mike’s character; made all the more savage by each word’s utter veracity.  “You have seduced and broken women; all semblance of themselves, their thoughts, opinions, beliefs, you subjugated all of them to you.  Many of the women you have dominated throughout your wretched existence have never fully recovered and live empty, shell-like lives.  You even betrayed your own brother with scarcely a thought.”  Mike continued to sob silently, each of Jacob’s words like a rusty barb that tore at the ragged shadow which had so long masqueraded as a soul.  He could not refute any of the charges Jacob was laying against him; he had never appeared before a judge so immovable and powerful and who appeared to have the ability to peer into his mind.  Without any warning he vomited fiercely into his footwell; steaming, foul smelling chunks of everything he had eaten spattered the old rubber mate and his handsomely made leather shoes.  He was no longer able to sob though his breath continued to jerk from his chest in hitching gasps.  Jacob gave no reaction nor passed comment on Mike’s violent stomach evacuation; his features remained a picture of serene calm.  His words, though measured and spoken in an even pitch, nevertheless seared Mike’s psyche like droplets of molten lead.  “You are an exceptionally despicable person Mike, but as yet no earthly authority has held you to account.  Oh you’ve appeared in various courts charged with various offences, but no judge or jury has yet found you guilty.  As yet there has not been either of these authorities that you could not buy or intimidate.  You are not entirely to blame for your character however; much of you was formed in the darkness that emanated from your father’s evil.”  The mere mention of his father brought the tears back to Mike’s eyes where they fell in burning hot trails.  Every blow, every denigrating word, every sweat drenched grasp replayed in front of his eyes, ending with his father’s brutal death.  He had finally vented his putrid bile on the wrong person in a local pub; the man, a well known local gangster, had savagely beaten his father around the head with a wine bottle and left him bleeding in a syringe littered alley around the back.  An alley Mike had been walking home down, for it was scarcely two hundred yards from their crumbling home.  His sobs grew louder until he thought his wails must split his skull apart and allow his tortured brain to spill out.  Jacob finally turned to face him; the light outside the car had taken a deep purple hue and they no longer appeared to be travelling on any man made road.  Mike dimly realised that he had not seen another car for around twenty minutes.  The fire in Jacob’s eyes grew brighter.  “I’m going to give you a choice Mike; a choice to come out of this reborn, anew, or to be locked into an existence so wretched it’ll make your soul bleed.  An existence that has only one exit which may or may not present itself over the course of a lifetime.”  Mike managed to lift his head that now appeared to weigh roughly the same as a marble globe.  Blinking away tears he looked Jacob into his smouldering eyes, “What do I have to do?  Can you help me?”  Jacob laughed bitterly and the glowing coals that had replaced his flesh eyes appeared to dim momentarily.  “Help?  If only it were that easy Mike.  I can only offer you a choice; a choice to give up your life of corruption, venality and excess and use whatever is left of your existence to do meaningful harm.  This choice however doesn’t come easily; you must take a long and searching look inside yourself and decide whether or not you can truly leave that life behind, for I’ll not deny it offers its own pleasures.  Choose now Mike, time is running out.”  The air had stopped rushing outside the car and the purplish light cast bizarre and terrifying shadows all around.  Mike was sure he could see eyes in the gloom; eyes that stared at him with a hungry and desperate look.  To his credit, perhaps the only positive action that could ever be ascribed to Mike, he did as Jacob asked.  He searched throughout his souls and his dark, fractured memories, the pleasure gained from the humiliation of others, his twisted sexual conquests.  He asked himself if he could truly become the virtuous beacon of light that Jacob seem to suggest was necessary to save his soul.  After around a minute of introspection, he reached a decision.  “I reckon I can give you that answer Jacob.”  He then voiced his decision to his chief prosecutor.  Jacob nodded slowly, the placid look returning though his eyes burned no less brightly.  “I thought so, I understand completely, for I made that exact decision forty years ago.”  Mike closed his eyes and exhaled; Jacob returned his attention to the steering wheel and drove on.  It wasn’t long before the all pervading light swallowed them whole.

Some time later, the exact length is immaterial; a woman stumbled out onto the old Great North Road.  She was expensively dressed and irresistibly beautiful; the kind of beauty that set pulses racing and men to check their breath.  She had however just ruined several lives and had been planning to celebrate in style until one particularly aggrieved individual had decided to attack her with an ashtray.  She had barely escaped with her face intact but had sworn to ensure the bitch went to the roughest prison in Britain.  She decided to hitch a lift somewhere, reasoning that she was far more dangerous than any prospective creep in a car.  A short while later, 1.8 VVC track Mini slowed to a halt a yard in front of her feet and the driver beckoned to her.  She opened the door and slid in; she made this simple movement appear as sensuous as an erotic dance and she made sure the driver saw a long portion of her shapely thigh.  Entice, seduce, hypnotise and discard; these tactics had always worked well for her.  The driver, a muscular dark haired man in an expensive suit that seemed jarringly out of place in this vintage car, flashed a smile that, for all her dominance and self-assurance, made her momentarily weak at the knees.  “Hi there love, where are you headed?”  She smiled seductively, thinking that perhaps she might get more out of this ride than she had originally intended.  “Anywhere is fine with me, the next town will do, I just need to get away for a bit.”  The man smiled that fatally charming smile again and turned back to the road.  “The next town it is then, I’m sure we can pass the time somehow along the way.”  

END

Support.

My "Dark Passenger" And Me

Support

Good morning everyone, I hope you are all well?

Again, I would just like to thank those who are following for giving me the time to look after myself on my road to recovery. Last week I decided I was well enough to go back to work, which was extremely hard and nerve-wracking, but a decision I do not regret.

This leads nicely into the topic of this post, support.

I had actually already written and published a post regarding support, but decided to delete and rewrite it as it was written when I was emotional and somewhat angry, and that is not what I wanted my blog to be about.

Those living with depression can often feel completely cut off from the world around them. They know there are people in their lives who care for and love them, yet still feel isolated and lonely. 

Sometimes, the more people tell you they are there for you, the worse you feel, because you don't want to drag them down with you and/or push them away. 

When I went back to work I had a number of people supporting me, wishing me luck and asking for me to let them know how it went. This, on one hand, was very moving, knowing that people were thinking about me and wishing me well. But on the other hand was quite overpowering. I felt that I had to do well in order to make them happy. That I had to push all of my woes to the side so that I could prove I was capable of doing my job. 

This is something I like to call 'concealer wellness'. Presenting yourself in such a way that does not reflect your inner thoughts and feelings. 

Of course, I knew I would feel anxious, that was to be expected after having been off for a period of time, but I don't think I was prepared for how anxious I would be. Although I could go off on a tangent here, I think I will save this for a later date.

I am lucky enough to have a wonderful mother, who regularly checked in on me and seemed to manage to make light of such an overwhelming situation. She really has been my rock through all of this, and there is no possible way I could thank her for that.

However, it was actually one of my previous managers who provided me with the strength to fight my demons.

Once, we were talking about our inner strength. He might kill me for telling you all of this, but I once found a picture of him with tiger face paint on. From that moment onwards, I would refer to his fun, relaxed and happy side as 'Tiger Bruce'. Now I have probably mentioned this before, but I am a bit of a walking doormat. I struggle to stand up for myself and avoid confrontation at all costs. He started to refer to my assertive self as 'Panther Susi', which came about after a failed attempt of a joke relating to a Bill Bailey sketch. On my first day back he sent me a picture of a panther. Every single time I looked at that photo I remembered what I needed to be. Brave, assertive, powerful.

During one supervision, he began talking in jargon about my attitude towards work, and me being me, I told him to talk 'Susi Language' to make it a little easier to understand. He told me that everyone has a stash of happiness beans which they can share with people if they choose to, but I tend to give all of my happiness beans away and don't leave any for myself. Now that's Susi language! During my first week he sent me a picture of happiness beans dancing. This made me literally laugh out loud, the first time I had done so that entire week.

My point is, support can come in many shapes and forms, and it doesn't need to be those closest to you to make a difference. Be open to take support from anyone in your life, you might just be surprised at what will help. 

They say laughter is the best medicine. I suppose, in my case, it really is!

As for today, I hope you all have a wonderful day beautiful people! 

~ x X x ~

Panic Attacks

My 'Dark Passenger' And Me

Panic Attacks.

Good evening everyone, I hope we are all well. 

This post was going to be on stigma attached to Mental Health Conditions, however, after having a severe panic attack recently and after having discussed this with a few people I felt that this may be more beneficial right now. 

I have had a fair whack of these and they can be completely paralysing. I can count on my hand the 3 most traumatic attacks and 2 of them were work related. 

The most recent was the reason I posted my apology a few weeks ago. 

As I have already mentioned, I have been off work for a while now due to stress and the aim of this time off was to try and help me get myself back to where I was. Weird as it sounds coming from a Mental Health Nurse I seem to have this uncontrollable need to help others with their problems (I know, right?!) and as much as this is the key reason I wanted to be a Nurse, it is also a bit of a flaw. I can't seem to turn off this part of my brain, and even though I want to make myself better and KNOW I need to give myself some time, I can't help but be drawn to those in need. 

The previous month was meant to be about me getting better and it just turned into me putting my own problems on hold and focussing on helping others. 

The night I had the panic attack there were a few people who had approached me for advice. Unbeknown to them, Dave and I had had a disagreement of sorts and I could feel myself welling up, putting huge amounts of pressure on myself and quite simply exploding.

I ended up having a huge melt down. It started with being unable to catch my breath. My heart started to race and for some reason I felt extremely fearful. It felt like there was a hard ball in my chest and with every tear I faught off, the ball was getting bigger and bigger, pushing down on my heart and my lungs. My head started to pound, I could feel the sweat pouring off me and then it happened. I just exploded. What I can only describe as a whole lot of verbal diarrhoea spurted out of my mouth. 

At first it was sheer panic - I can't do this any more, I need to get away, I can't breathe, I need to go (where, I have no idea!) then came the anger towards others for not realising that I was struggling. The anger then turned to me for not telling people that I couldn't deal with more pressure right now. This quickly turned to guilt for being the way I was in front of Dave and for blaming other people when the person responsible is staring right back at me in the mirror. Lastly came the sorrow/hopelessness. I'm never going to get better, I might as well quit whilst I'm ahead. How am I going to help others if I can't help myself? 

I don't know how Dave managed to calm me down - if we're lucky he'll explain in the comments - it was all a bit of a blur to be honest. 

I posted the apology because I know that there are people who share some of the feeling I have described, and I didn't want them to think that I was giving up. It took me a while to realise it, but I am NOT giving up. 

I was down for a long time after that. I am grateful for my friends and family who realised that this was not because of them, I needed to be left alone. 

I needed time to get my head around what had happened and why. No-one intentionally put pressure on me but myself. I was deflecting. If I could help other people then I wouldn't have to deal with my own mess. I don't know how many times I have advised people to look after themselves before others. Dave explained it pretty accurately - it's like when you're on a plane and they tell you to put your own oxygen mask on before helping others. If you don't, you could end up passing out and the others who needed help, won't get help. 

this habit I have of putting others before myself is a hard one to break, and I'm sure many of you will have similar problems. The main thing I have started to do is tell people that I don't think I am able to help them right now. You won't be seen as rude if you approach it right. All you have to say is "I'm sorry, but I can't think about this right now." THEY WILL UNDERSTAND! 

Before I go, I would just like to clarify that I am not angry at anyone. The stages I went through during the attack were just going through the motions. I love my friends and family dearly and am grateful that they have read my blog and have more of an understanding of what I am going through. 

For this evening though, I hope you have a wonderful evening beautiful people.

~ x X x ~

Myers - Briggs Test

My "Dark Passenger" And Me

Myers-Briggs Test.

Myers-Briggs Test

http://www.humanmetrics.com/cgi-win/jtypes2.asp

INFJ

Introvert(11%)  iNtuitive(50%)  Feeling(38%)  Judging(33%)

• You have slight preference of Introversion over Extraversion (11%)
• You have moderate preference of Intuition over Sensing (50%)
• You have moderate preference of Feeling over Thinking (38%)
• You have moderate preference of Judging over Perceiving (33%)

INFJ Description

by Marina Margaret Heiss and Joe Butt

INFJs are distinguished by both their complexity of character and the unusual range and depth of their talents. Strongly humanitarian in outlook, INFJs tend to be idealists, and because of their J preference for closure and completion, they are generally "doers" as well as dreamers. This rare combination of vision and practicality often results in INFJs taking a disproportionate amount of responsibility in the various causes to which so many of them seem to be drawn. 

INFJs are deeply concerned about their relations with individuals as well as the state of humanity at large. They are, in fact, sometimes mistaken for extroverts because they appear so outgoing and are so genuinely interested in people -- a product of the Feeling function they most readily show to the world. On the contrary, INFJs are true introverts, who can only be emotionally intimate and fulfilled with a chosen few from among their long-term friends, family, or obvious "soul mates." While instinctively courting the personal and organizational demands continually made upon them by others, at intervals INFJs will suddenly withdraw into themselves, sometimes shutting out even their intimates. This apparent paradox is a necessary escape valve for them, providing both time to rebuild their depleted resources and a filter to prevent the emotional overload to which they are so susceptible as inherent "givers." As a pattern of behavior, it is perhaps the most confusing aspect of the enigmatic INFJ character to outsiders, and hence the most often misunderstood -- particularly by those who have little experience with this rare type.

Due in part to the unique perspective produced by this alternation between detachment and involvement in the lives of the people around them, INFJs may well have the clearest insights of all the types into the motivations of others, for good and for evil. The most important contributing factor to this uncanny gift, however, are the empathic abilities often found in Fs, which seem to be especially heightened in the INFJ type (possibly by the dominance of the introverted N function). 

This empathy can serve as a classic example of the two-edged nature of certain INFJ talents, as it can be strong enough to cause discomfort or pain in negative or stressful situations. More explicit inner conflicts are also not uncommon in INFJs; it is possible to speculate that the causes for some of these may lie in the specific combinations of preferences which define this complex type. For instance, there can sometimes be a "tug-of-war" between NF vision and idealism and the J practicality that urges compromise for the sake of achieving the highest priority goals. And the I and J combination, while perhaps enhancing self-awareness, may make it difficult for INFJs to articulate their deepest and most convoluted feelings. 

Usually self-expression comes more easily to INFJs on paper, as they tend to have strong writing skills. Since in addition they often possess a strong personal charisma, INFJs are generally well-suited to the "inspirational" professions such as teaching (especially in higher education) and religious leadership. Psychology and counseling are other obvious choices, but overall, INFJs can be exceptionally difficult to pigeonhole by their career paths. Perhaps the best example of this occurs in the technical fields. Many INFJs perceive themselves at a disadvantage when dealing with the mystique and formality of "hard logic", and in academic terms this may cause a tendency to gravitate towards the liberal arts rather than the sciences. However, the significant minority of INFJs who do pursue studies and careers in the latter areas tend to be as successful as their T counterparts, as it is *iNtuition* -- the dominant function for the INFJ type -- which governs the ability to understand abstract theory and implement it creatively.

In their own way, INFJs are just as much "systems builders" as are INTJs; the difference lies in that most INFJ "systems" are founded on human beings and human values, rather than information and technology. Their systems may for these reasons be conceptually "blurrier" than analogous NT ones, harder to measure in strict numerical terms, and easier to take for granted -- yet it is these same underlying reasons which make the resulting contributions to society so vital and profound.

Beneath the quiet exterior, INFJs hold deep convictions about the weightier matters of life.Those who are activists - INFJs gravitate toward such a role - are there for the cause, not for personal glory or political power.

INFJs are champions of the oppressed and downtrodden.They often are found in the wake of an emergency, rescuing those who are in acute distress.INFJs may fantasize about getting revenge on those who victimize the defenseless.The concept of 'poetic justice' is appealing to the INFJ.

"There's something rotten in Denmark." Accurately suspicious about others' motives, INFJs are not easily led.These are the people that you can rarely fool any of the time.Though affable and sympathetic to most, INFJs are selective about their friends. Such a friendship is a symbiotic bond that transcends mere words.

INFJs have a knack for fluency in language and facility in communication. In addition, nonverbal sensitivity enables the INFJ to know and be known by others intimately.

Writing, counseling, public service and even politics are areas where INFJs frequently find their niche.

Career Choices

INFJs are effective in occupations involving substantial intellectual work, caring for other people, and requiring creativity. INFJs build successful careers in a broad range of organizations. Social and community care services, counseling, teachers of humanities and social sciences, healthcare workers (both in administration and in medical services), various service-oriented professions as well as religious services and social movements are just some of the examples of occupations favourable to INFJs. Quite often they are found in mid-rank management positions. For some of them occupations in sciences or academia are also favourable.

INFJ (Introverted, Intuitive, Feeling, Judging)
Pocahontas



Recognising that there are just as many different types of people as colors of the wind, you want to know what makes people tick and what motivates them. Observant and good-natured, you pay attention to others’ needs and let your counsel flow from your commitment to your firm values.

INFJ – The Counselor

What stresses out an INFJ:– Having to focus too much on sensory/concrete details
– An overload of sensory stimulation or noise
– Interruptions
– Distress within a close relationship
– Having their values violated
– Not enough alone time. Too much extraverting.
– Working with closed-minded people
– Lack of appreciation or understanding
– Unfamiliar environments with overwhelming amounts of details
– Having plans disrupted
– Not having a clear direction
– Lack of harmony
– Criticism and conflict
– Not being able to use their intuition or envision the future
– Having to focus too much on the present

When under stress, the INFJ feels fragmented or lost. They feel like they can’t be themselves, and feel an urge to act a part to “survive” or fit in. This disassociation can cause physical symptoms for the INFJ, like headaches, IBS, or nausea. The repressed feelings they’re holding onto can cause them to become immobilized. If they are under chronic extreme stress, they may fall into the grip of their inferior function, extraverted sensing. When this happens, they may engage in indulgent, self-destructive habits like binge-eating, cutting, over-exercising, alcoholism, or excessive pornography use. This often feels like an out-of-body experience to them. What they do provides no pleasure, but feels somewhat robotic and out of control. After this occurs, they dwell in self-hatred, falling even more into guilt over what they’ve done. They may become uncharacteristically angry and quick-tempered, unreasonable, and irrational. They may become obsessed with details in their outer world; obsessively cleaning or doing housework. They stumble over their words, and their intense feelings eventually lead them to a state of complete exhaustion.

How to help an INFJ experiencing stress:– Give them space.
– Reduce sensory stimulation; music, interruptions, TV, etc,..
– Let them express their thoughts and feelings.
– Understand that they may be irrational. Don’t judge them.
– Don’t give advice. This will only stress them out further.
– Let them take a break from some of their responsibilities
– Encourage them to spend some time in nature, walking or reading a book.
– Take a walk with them if they want company.
– Encourage their less serious side, and let them relieve emotional tension by letting them cry through a sappy movie or novel of some sort.
– Be forgiving if they’ve been overly harsh or critical while under stress. Chances are, they will feel very guilty about it.

Self Harm

My "Dark Passenger" And Me

Self Harm.

Good afternoon everyone, I hope we are all well.

I would like to say thank you for giving me some time to work on myself. I have been struggling over the last few months and needed some real alone time to figure out what was best for me, so thank you for giving that to me. 

This post is going to be on something that is very close to my heart - Self Harm.

When I was younger I used several different techniques to self harm. The traditional method which we have all probably seen (in ourselves or others) is cutting. 

It's a difficult feeling to explain - some people do it to punish themselves if they feel they have done wrong, some do it for some sort of release and some do it to remind themselves that they can feel (sometimes those suffering from depression describe themselves as 'numb' and unable to feel emotions). 

I have to say, when I was younger, my most frequent self harm was cutting on my arms, my stomach and my legs. Most of the time this was to punish myself (after an argument with someone close to me) but I also used to require some sort of release. It almost felt like the blood symbolised all of the emotions building up inside of me and when I cut myself those emotions seemed to pour away. 

There are other types of self harm which people may not be aware of as they are more difficult to pick up on and are more subtle. 

I used to pluck my eyebrows. Now, I know that sounds silly, but any woman will tell you that plucking isn't the most wonderful feeling in the world! I used to pluck my eyebrows so much that there was barely anything left to tweeze away. A thin line of hair that looked ridiculous but calmed me down ever so slightly.

Using nail clippers to cut nails (particularly toenails) too deep. This is something is used to do, and sometimes subconsciously still do when I am feeling tense. Easy to cover up, pain that lasts longer than a few minutes and again, some sort of weird release.

Anyone who knows me will be able to back me up here, but another behaviour I used to/and still do is chewing my fingers (the skin around my nails). I can't say for sure this was a method of self harm, because I continue with this behaviour even when I am well. However, when I am feeling particularly stressed or down, I chew on my fingers even more. This causes small cuts and I end up having to cover my fingers in plasters. Any nurse will tell you that they have a box somewhere for first aid, but my box is FILLED with plasters - an endless supply! 

I continued to struggle with these acts of self harm until I was halfway through university. I remember the night so vividly it actually makes my skin crawl thinking about it, but I feel I need to share this with you, because this was my turning point.

 I had been struggling immensely (emotionally for reasons I cannot go into) for a long time and everything seemed to magnify in my mind. My flat mates had convinced me to go out even though I was feeling pretty miserable and initially I seemed to perk up a little. However, all of a sudden I felt extremely claustrophobic. I was in the middle of the dance floor, surrounded by people and I started to panic. The group of friends I was with were looking at me and I don't know whether this was in my mind or it was real, I could see them laughing at me. I ran away and my flat mates took me back to my flat. They were asking what was wrong but I couldn't explain and felt like everyone hated me because I had ruined the night. One of my flat mates said she was going to sleep in my bed with me as she felt that I was going to do something silly - she was right. In the middle of the night when she had fallen asleep, I took myself into the spare room armed with a kitchen knife and tablets and I did something I wish I had never done. I took a huge amount of tablets and began to cut. I passed out and I can't actually remember what happened next. I have foggy memories of my flat mates finding me and taking me to bed, but I can't remember much else. When I finally woke, it took me a long time to figure out what had happened and I apologised profusely to my flat mates, but I still felt empty. It was Dave who made me think. 

When I went home at the weekend it turned out I had been messaging him whilst doing this. He told me how scared he was and how bad he felt that he wasn't there for me and then he said something that haunted me. "What would I have done without you? What about your mum? Claire? Ali?" 

That was my turning point. I felt incredibly foolish and selfish for what I had done. He was, of course, right. I decided that I was not going to do this any more and in order to 1. Stop myself from self harming again and 2. Remind me of my recovery I got a tattoo on my go-to wrist (my right wrist - I'm left handed!) of purple flowers. They near enough cover the scars and are a reminder of how far I have come. Since that day I have never cut again and when I feel like I am struggling, I look at my tattoo and remember that conversation with Dave. 

I remember some techniques my counsellor gave me when I was a teenager which also helped, and in a way, this has led to me writing this blog. 

1. Ice - holding ice in your hand and letting it melt. Your mind is tricked into believing you are in pain because of the coldness and the 'release' can be felt when the ice melts and becomes smaller and smaller.

2. Ripping paper. I do this quite often. Ripping paper releases anger without hurting anyone (depending on the paper you are ripping!) and also gives you something to do with your hands so you are not focussing on cutting/plucking etc.

3. Writing things down. I used to write a diary on the computer. This got wiped when I moved to Uni, but I suppose, in a way, this is now my diary. It's a good way to relieve yourself of emotions, but also a good way to explain how you are feeling to others. Certain people got to see my dairy when I was a teenager when I felt that they needed to know how I was feeling. 

4. Using a pen instead of a blade. You still feel a bit of pain, but you're not actually cutting.

5. Exercise. Whenever you feel that you cannot cope - go for a walk. Take in the fresh air and the views around you. It's easy to forget that there's a whole world out there just waiting to be explored, you just need to take the first few steps.

6. An elastic band around your wrist. Pinging the elastic band can trick your brain into feeling the same pain from cutting without actually hurting yourself.

As I have said before, these are just suggestions that worked for me, but they may not work for you. Speak to your GP, they can suggest many other ways of releasing emotions without causing yourself or others pain. That's what they're there for, to advise. So don't feel that you will be judged for seeking help. Better you do that than end up in A&E.

I would just like to say thank you for reading. This has been quite a difficult piece to write without getting caught up in the emotions, so if there are any mistakes I do apologise. 

As for now, I hope you all have a lovely day beautiful people. 

~ x X X~

Apologies

My "Dark Passenger" And Me

Apologies.

Good evening all, I hope you are all well.

I would just like to apologise for the lack of posting lately. 

As you all know, I have been fighting my own demons recently, and this week it seems to have gotten on top of me. 

I have been signed off work for a while now in order to focus on my recovery and getting myself better again, however, I feel that all I have done in this time is make others feel better. I have not had the time to focus on myself, and last night I felt as though everything I have been talking about through these posts just flooded and overwhelmed me.

Luckily Dave was there to calm me down, but all I wanted was to see my mum. 

This post isn't generally about discussing anything, more of an apology, as I know there are a few people following my blog and are expecting to see more posts from me.

Let me assure you, there will be more coming - My next post is going to be on Self-Harm, as this is a topic very close to my heart. So please, stay tuned.

All I ask is for a little bit of time to focus on my recovery.

For now, I hope you all have a wonderful evening beautiful people.

~ x X x ~