My day of non-doing

Over a year ago, a friend of a friend recommended a book to me. It's a large book, which I have been dipping in and out of for the past 9 months, called Full Catastrophe Living by Jon Kabat-Zin. In it, the idea of non-doing, which is found in more than one eastern culture, is promoted as a healthy way to prevent stress build up and help us manage the 'full catastrophe' of modern life.

image: http://myunblock.com/

We live extremely busy lives. Everything has to be instant, our brains are always switched on. We're checking emails, waiting for that text from so-and-so to confirm plans for the weekend, wondering what to have for dinner, watching TV, solving problems...It's no wonder more and more of us are finding it hard to switch off.

Depression makes this worse. I spent most of August 2014 trying to work myself into oblivion, because work was the one thing that stopped me thinking. Thinking was destroying me. Every time I had chance to relax, my brain would start telling me, within minutes, that I'm worthless, that no-one liked me and how could they, when I was such a terrible person? I didn't try hard enough, I wasn't kind enough, what's wrong with me? So I worked, and worked to distract myself. And you can guess how healthy that was.

Non-doing

So, finding myself unexpectedly with nothing to do yesterday, I decided to follow some of Prof. Kabat-Zin's advice and consciously do nothing. I don't mean by this that I sat on the sofa watching TV and eating ice cream, nor do I mean I looked at a wall for 6 hours. Rather, I took the time to really pay attention to my body, my thoughts, my actions.

image: http://www.totallypresent.com/

I had a cup of green tea and took the time to taste every mouthful, feel the warmth of the liquid and the tannins, smell the lemon. I paid attention to the feel of the carpet on my feet as I walked about. I meditated, spending time noticing the areas of tension in my muscles and allowing myself to relax. I did a spot of yoga, again focusing on how each stretch and twist felt. And I slept when my brain told me it needed sleep.

What was the point of all this? It slowed my mind down. I am, by nature, an over-thinker with a very active brain. Gently guiding my thoughts into the present moment and curbing the impulse to distract myself was hugely liberating. I did very little all day, and had a really, really, good day. I felt nurtured, restored. I realised how important it is to make that time to switch off from screens and demands and impulses, and just be.

The next challenge is remembering how good it is, and making time for it more often...

Things I have learned from depression (part II)

A few months back, I wrote down some things I learned from having depression. Having gotten a little further, I think it's time to add to that list.

1. The work never stops. It's so easy to fall back into the mindset that everything is your fault, so it's important to take a moment to put things back into perspective.

The last week I've found myself slipping a little, getting stressed and not being able to catch myself and analyse my responses before I react. I've felt a bit of a mess. Luckily, my therapy has taught me to recognise when to take time out, so today I let myself off the hook: laid in, read, watched TV, let my mind rest. And I woke up after an afternoon nap to the realisation that I'm proud of what I have done this year. Against the odds, I got a new job; I'm still fighting, practising meditation, trying to keep perspective; I stood up for myself; I am standing up for others with mental health problems. I am a depressive and I am not beaten.

2. There is no such thing as normal. Each one of us experiences a different reality, and that reality is our own. Nothing else matters until we have achieved balance within that reality, and can respect that of others.

3. I am not my illness. My illness does not define me. It makes things difficult, it gets me down sometimes, but I am many other things that my illness cannot touch.

4. There are some things that therapy will never solve. And that's OK.

There are certain things that I feel about myself, certain ways I perceive myself that therapy cannot heal. I can't solve the problem, but I can create an experience that contradicts what has gone before.

5. The more I talk about my world, the more the stigma on mental health issues recedes.

Starting a blog was a scary step: there are people that I have never met who have read these words. But my choice to be publicly open about my experience can only help to break the silence around mental health problems. Only true understanding and empathy can ultimately vanquish fear and engender acceptance.

The value of tears and why meditation is great

How I learnt the value of crying 

Not so long ago I thought that crying was a sign of weakness. I thought that because people saw me as a strong person, it meant tears were unacceptable, even behind closed doors. They make us vulnerable, they make us ugly.

During the summer I cried almost every day. I hated it. Crying solved nothing and it gave me a headache, but I couldn't make it stop. Tiny things would set me off: TV shows, light-hearted digs from colleagues that I'd normally take in my stride, people being nice to me, taking an extra 15 minutes to get home because of a diversion. Sometimes at work I'd hide in the toilets and cry several times a day, other times I'd manage to hold the mask in place till 5pm, at which point I'd get in my car and let go, and the tears would fall until long after I was home.

During my first few therapy sessions I cried from start to finish. I'd leave the building with red, puffy eyes feeling even more confused and overwhelmed than when I went in. But gradually, as the meds stabilised me and the therapy progressed, I began to appreciate the tears. I cried in a way I had not cried for ages - as a release. This kind follows a stressful event, unaccompanied by the self-blame and guilt I had grown used to experiencing. It's shorter, and the aftermath is a sense of relief rather than utter exhaustion.

Last Thursday I had a melt-down day, the type of day I had every day last summer. I took things to heart, became anxious, stressed and paranoid. I hid in the toilets and I cried. But instead of hating myself for being a feeble excuse for a human being, I was able to roll with it, to rationalise it and recognise that tomorrow would be better. And, of course, it was. Finally I can accept a few tears here and there when I need them.

Why meditation is great

After a long time getting passed off as something only hippies and Buddhist monks do, meditation is finally getting a bit more of the praise it deserves. As someone who struggles with their mental health, I think it's brilliant - not only because it is a chance to wind down and clear my mind for a few minutes, but also because it's a good way to reinforce the new ways of thinking and of looking at life that I am learning. It's what my therapist would call time to 'nurture' myself.

I don't go in for humming, or chanting, it's not my thing. But there are some really effective techniques that enable you to calm your mind and focus on the here and now instead of worrying about the ironing, or that report that's due in the morning. One of my preferred exercises is to focus on my breath. I sit cross-legged, hands in my lap or resting on my knees and close my eyes. With every breath in I feel my body expanding like a balloon, and with every breath out I imagine my muscles relaxing. I start with my neck and work all the way down to my legs, feeling the tension fall away from each part of my body as I focus on it.

Recently my trainer recommended a book called Synchrodestiny to me. Now there are plenty of medics and scientists out there who turn their noses up at Deepak Chopra and dismiss his books - it's true, some of his ideas are a bit random to say the least - but I'll say this for Synochrodestiny, it made a rough patch a little less bad. He sets out 7 'sutras', one for each day of the week that focuses on a different concept. These reinforce the positive mindset that my therapist has been encouraging me to adopt, enabling me to imagine myself as part of something bigger as opposed to totally isolated, to see aspects of myself in others, which helps me connect and empathise with them, to remind myself that I am a worthwhile person with something to offer the world.


I have not meditated for 2 weeks due to other commitments, and I have noticed it. My self esteem has ebbed a little, my sense of connection has subsided, I doubt myself more. Recent events have left me very tired, but the moment I regain some energy I plan to begin again.

Maybe you're inclined to think I'm talking rubbish, but if you get some time alone, I'd encourage you to give it a try. You may be surprised at how good it feels.