The chocolate box of life

One of my favourite sayings goes like this: 'In the chocolate box of life, not every day is a marzipan fancy'. Of course you may not like marzipan as much as I do, if at all, but I could eat it, as they say, 'until the cows come home'. Nevertheless the saying can be applied to all of our lives and mental health doesn't have to be your toffee hard centre (you know the one that always wraps itself around the inner recesses of your mouth before coming away with one of your biggest dental fillings attached) for it to be apposite.

I have become conscious that I now seem to blog only on marzipan fancy or toffee hard centre days. I accept it's a good thing to share more positive reportage and cathartic for the writer to share the worst and darkest of experiences but most days, for most people, most of the time, are neither marzipan fancies or toffee hard centres - perhaps, to pursue the analogy a little further, most days are like a caramel or coffee cream, acceptable enough but not at the top or bottom of the favourites list.

My life is little different but it often feels very different. I have realised I am not suffering from depression (although like everyone I have my 'down in the dumps' days) but anxiety. Yesterday I read a surprising statistic - although approximately 25% of the population suffer some form of mental health issue, only 5% of people struggle with anxiety. Not only is anxiety a lonely experience (mainly because other people seem to wonder ‘what have you got to be anxious about’) it often feels that whilst every chocolate in the box looks tasty and inviting, underneath the attractive exterior, every offering has a hard centre that will remove your fillings painfully, one at a time.

Because my anxieties centre (almost exclusively) on financial matters (either my own situation or the future situation for my sons) there are so many triggers, so many chocolates in the box to select and discover the painful hard centre. It may be a sign advertising the price of fuel on a garage forecourt or a dramatic headline in a newspaper - although recent experience has taught me that even the so called 'quality' papers are writing headlines to sell papers that seem to bear little relationship to the article itself; the anxiety generated by this is hugely problematic for me.

None of the things I have been anxious about have actually come to pass or if they have I have dealt with them far more easily than I anticipated. Despite this I am still caught in the middle of an absolute conviction that all my anxieties are true or abut to come true; as though I am stood over my metaphorical box of chocolates looking at the marzipan fancies knowing, yes knowing, that it only looks like a marzipan fancy whilst inside awaits a hard and painful centre.

This is the reality of anxiety for me on a daily basis. I wish it were different. I have been especially anxious lately about my sons and their future prospects. They are intelligent, articulate, polite, well turned out, motivated and are becoming increasingly well educated at well known and respected educational institutions. They have wide interests and abilities in non-academic disciplines making them attractive to future employers. This particular chocolate box has been mostly filled with marzipan fancies with the odd hard centre (like student loans - just as it is for all students) thrown in because that is what life is like. Despite the assurance of someone very close to me that my sons 'will make liars of those anxieties' (and yes, I’d happily take that), to me, this vicarious chocolate box is deceiving me as efficiently as my own - it's full of hard centres.

The sad thing is when you think you only have hard centres to choose from you would rather elect not to choose one at all. This significantly impairs the quality of daily life and is of considerable sadness to me.

Nevertheless, I still refuse to feel sorry for myself and I am continuing to work on those things that help me try to see that there are more marzipan fancies than I care to believe. Not only that, God willing, there will continue to be.

The fear of choking on a 'hard centre' continues to be real and intrusive - 'anxiety' has its roots in the Latin verb angere meaning 'to choke'. For those of you reading this and wondering what is all the fuss about anxiety( 'just have a word with yourself' or 'get a grip', both of which have been said to me by various people on a regular basis), I leave you with some words that might help illuminate the understanding and increase the acceptance a little more. They are not my words but those of Mignon McLaughlin (how ironic that her surname contains the verb 'laugh') the American journalist and author who died in 1983.

Love looks forward,

hate looks back, 

anxiety has eyes all over its head.

The Dark Night of the Soul

It's three weeks since my last blog when I asked if there was a light at the end of the tunnel.  I still feel the peace I seek is elusive, in fact more elusive than ever.  As those of you following this blog know, my employers have insisted I move in July.  The move is proving to introduce so many layers to my anxiety I am finding it unbearable.

My wife will have to leave her job and as a civil servant there is little prosepct of anything new for a while.  She hates her job though, so on a personal level this may be positive and she may receive a small lump sum for leaving early.

We all have to pay a bit more tax and National Insurance from April.  It looks like the new military accommodation we have been allocated is a lot smaller than we live in now and quite a lot more money.

Add to this the concern over military pensions introduced by the Hutton Report (although it will not be until 2015 at earliest and for the military likely not even then producing minimal impact) and it feels as though it is, simply put, one thing after another.

This is not a whinge it's just the way I feel and I feel rough.  I do Moodscope everyday now - see the link on the right.  I only scored 8% today.

So this is a simple update on how I am feeling, the uncertainty I am encountering and an honest appraisal that I feel utterly overwhelmed.

Sorry but this is just the way it is.  As an understanding friend of mine put it, it is a 'dark night of the soul'.  It feels as though he is right.

Is there a light at the end of the tunnel?

Peace of mind is as elusive as ever for me.  I wish it were different but part of my honest approach to this blog is to tell it straight, not to seek sympathy just acceptance, not to be self-indulgent but to be self-seeking.

My anxiety is following is an all too familiar theme - financial matters.  Despite the constant reassurances of those whose perspective is clearer and whose knowledge base is wider the anxiety just moves forward and trying to turn it around is like trying to change the direction of an oil tanker - it actually feels more intransigent than that.

For a few minutes towards the beginning of last week the light at the end of the tunnel flickered -  sorry, once again I am mixing my metaphors!  I had asked my medical team to allow me to see the psychologist and they did.  Last Tuesday, in a session that was a real emotional roller coaster, we began to perceive what might be driving this ongoing anxiety. 

The probable root cause is a highly personal matter but one I suspected may be at least one factor in continuing to maintain the anxious bearing of this metaphorical oil tanker.  The psychologist agreed.  Not only that, she suggested it may well prove to be the most significant factor of all.  This was a relief to me as I have long believed this myself but it has been dismissed by others including my wife whose patience and tolerance for my struggles has all but waned -  that's not a public criticism, just an observation and I do, as one of my best friends would say, 'totally get that'.

So last week brought a glimmer of a possibility - right now it doesn't feel like more than that but we shall see.  I am seeing the psychologist again in a couple of weeks and we hope to explore further why it is that I am constantly and obsessively vigilant for danger which seems to translate itself into anxiety which is almost certainly unfounded.

I am trying hard to be positive.  The glimmer of light may be tiny and intermittent but progress through the tunnel, I hope and pray, will see the light get larger and brighter.  Maybe one of these days the light will dominate the darkness which is my anxiety and it will be the anxiety, not the light, which is intermittent.

Sad news

I found out this morning that someone I know quite well died following an accident at the weekend.  This puts my anxiety into some sort of perspective.  I cannot say my anxieties and their attendant fears will disappear as a result of this tragedy as I know they will not.  But it does make me very conscious of my need to continue to seek help and perspective; living well is an ideal but any kind of living is better than the alternative.

Stuck in the groove - and it's terrifying

Three weeks have past since my last post.  I know some people with mental health blogs manage to produce material every day.  I sometimes manage a run of a few days and then it tails off for a while.  The reason is simple - because when I am struggling it's hard to write.  I have been struggling a lot since my last blog - simple as that.

It should be cathartic, and sometimes it is.  But when I feel 'rubbish' (like now) it just rubs my nose in my anxieties.  It's also very hard to tell if the posts I do manage to generate are actually being read or are found useful by anyone.

So, yes, morale is low and I will tell you why.  But before I do that I would like to add an important caveat - however it sounds I do not feel sorry for myself and I am not looking for sympathy.  I am however going to tell it straight.

The straightest thing of all I can say is simply this: 'I don't get it'.  Let me provide an example.  I have to move jobs in July, my wife will move with me and therefore has to leave her job - she hates this job anyway and could do with a break.  From April I am going to pay more National Insurance and Income Tax just like everybody else.  I have worked out that financially all of this is manageable and I know, yes I really do know, that I am so fortunate compared to so many people.  And yet, and this is the rub, despite knowing all of these hits are manageable without really affecting my day to day life I am still terrified of financial ruin.  There isn't even any impact on my continuing ability to maintain the level of support I give to my sons at their respective educational establishments - although I still feel a complete failure for only meeting about a third of my eldest son's university costs the rest being down to student loans.  And yet, I say again, I am terrified of financial ruin. Terrified sums it up, I am not exaggerating.

Everywhere I turn there are triggers which challenge the logic of my situation.  Today I even convinced myself that when I leave the army in eight years there will not be a job for me.  This is, to quote Mr Spock of the USS Enterprise, 'illogical Captain'.  I am intelligent, experienced, motivated and have a number of additional professional qualifications which will put me in a strong position when I come to look.  Not only that, colleagues (in my area of expertise) have always faired very well on leaving and looking for employment.  I know only one who was unsuccessful; I also know it was his own fault entirely so that doesn't count.

I am ranting - my apologies.  But this is how it is for me now.  The anxiety won't ease, my problem solving is ineffective, I have no confidence in my own abilities and I fear financial ruin.  Apart from that I am doing OK!

I am stuck in the groove like an old scratched long playing record.  The groove has convinced me of the diabolical (see an earlier post).

Readers, if you are still out there please forgive the level of detailed personal disclosure.  If anybody reads this and can offer me any advice or encouragement I would be grateful so much more than you could even imagine.

The journey is a marathon

I am starting this without really having a purpose in mind other than to maintain some kind of momentum. Momentum can be a rare commodity for us long term sufferers of mental health problems.  The last few days 'diabolical' has been viciously persistent and this has challenged me on so many levels.  Worst of all has been that the rational voices, the good demons I described in my last post, have been repeatedly shouted down by the voluminous 'diabolical' to the point they appear, on occasion, to have vanished altogether.

I am very tired of it. And, as I have said before, whilst I don't feel sorry for myself and am not looking for sympathy, some acceptance and understanding is always welcome!

Tiredness is a key factor in all of this.  I think any mental health patient (at whatever stage they are) would say there are many days when fighting back is as exhausting as running a marathon.


Just like in Cavafy's poem 'Ithaka' the journey is just as, if not more important than, the eventual destination.  Mental health patients get this too.  However, for us the journey is, sadly, so often about daily struggle.

My short blog today ends simply with this 'pause for thought': it feels like a marathon because it is a marathon!  Nevertheless, however slowly you run, however much your anxieties and fears add weight to your back as you are running, we have to keep the destination in mind and accept the fact that some days the journey is purgatory (and thus it is hard to heed Cavafy's assertion about the inherent validity of the journey) whilst if we 'press on' some days, even if only rarely, the sun does and will shine.

The diabolical shouts louder

It is indeed remarkable to observe that for the first time in, I don't know so let's just say 'ages', I have posted on three consecutive days.  I am sat here making myself;  I have had a very difficult day in which the negative 'demon' on my shoulder has over powered the positive one time and time again.

The Greek word for demon, δαίμων, was originally rather neutral and certainly did not embody the instinctively negative connotations it has today.  Demons were supernatural, spiritual beings who could indeed be malevolent even evil but they could also be benevolent, despite the christian biblical tradition which essentially considers the devil, διάβολος (the root of our modern word for 'diabolical'), to be, if you like, the chief demon.

So, you may well ask, where is all of this leading?  Anxiety for me is like having a demon on each shoulder - one good, balanced, reasoned and rational and one, shall we say 'diabolical'.  I spoke to a close friend today whose daughter is taking a little time to find work.  She is bright (holding a good degree), articulate and well balanced.  She will find the right post before too long for, as one of the people I trust most in this world reminded me today, there is still work but at the moment it might just take a little longer to find it.

Whilst it may seem terrible, this is only a transitory phase in the economic life of the country and, therefore, as we come through into the other side of this financial reorganisation matters will steadily improve. Furthermore, and now forgive me as I am going to become explicitly anecdotal, my eldest son will graduate in the summer of 2013 and will then, possibly train for a further year to go into teaching the subject that he loves, music.  It is January 2011 and the bad demon on my shoulder has encouraged me to believe (because of the news about my friend's daughter) that in 2014 when my eldest son looks for his first permanent position (and not until 2017 for my youngest son) there is ample evidence to suggest, nay prove, that there will be nothing for him.

The 'good demon' is quietly, gently, urging me to heed the more reasoned and rational approach I have already described but the διάβολος shouts louder.  The 'good demon' is characteristically what the psalmist calls the 'still small voice of calm'.  I am hoping that the quieter voice will persist and persuade me to stop stressing and accept that the conclusions I have drawn are each, truly, a non sequitir.  And let me not forget that as dark as my mind feels today the evidence of the past has shown me, time and again, that all I feared and worried and worried and worried about proved groundless.

There are no guarantees for the future for any of us, not even one.  But the rational side of me, the advice of those whom I love and my past experience, all of which make up the 'good demon', do suggest today's anxiety is unfounded and irrational.  I just wish the 'good demon' would speak up a bit and the διάβολος would just 'poke off'!  Then maybe when my anxieties raise their ugly head again I might come to believe they are unfounded and learn to shout them down for myself.