Tuesday 8th April 2014 // Fibro-Fog Sucks

I could probably write everything that was good about today on one finger. I am not okay. Today's post is probably going to be a bit emotional; and we all know I'm not great at putting emotion into words so please, bare with me.

Honestly, I don't think I've ever felt so shit in all my life. At the start of the day there were some minuscule problems, like having overdue psychology work and more than my fair share of mocks due in. These things maybe affected me subconsciously but weren't a factor in the decline of my mental stability until the other problems started piling up. There were then the 'minor' problems - which aren't really minor at all, but are minor compared to how I'm feeling right now - which include having to deal with someone whose intentions I'm not entirely sure about. I mean to say that she's messing me about a bit. This lack of clarity is making me uncertain about the entire friendship and at the moment I'm not even able to be around her without becoming extremely stressed. I apologise for mentioning that because I know that she can be lovely, but everyone has two sides, and being completely honest with myself and others is a huge part of my therapy. Another of these 'minor' problems was finding out the extent of my Fibromyalgia.

My case of Fibromyalgia is believed to be genetic, as my mum suffers from the same condition. When I was younger, I suffered from recurring bouts of pain in my legs, which were always perceived to be "growing pains" until they continued into my mid-teens (although I haven't grown in at least two years). Even though the pain was debilitating, as a youngster I was excited to have the "growing pains" because, well, what kid isn't excited to grow? But as a teenager they're becoming less and less welcome. Rushing from the bus stop to the college door becomes a full-on workout for my legs - which have always been the worst affected area. To solve this problem I've begun catching an earlier bus, so I don't have to walk as fast, although this means getting up early. When I was diagnosed I wasn't well informed about the condition; I was just told that I need to eat healthily and take it easy. I learnt the rest from my mum and grandma. Today, I decided I wasn't comfortable with only half the picture and decided to research into it a bit further (but only on the NHS website of course, which I feel is the most reliable source). To my dismay, I realised I was having lots of the other symptoms, too... symptoms I didn't even know existed and were a part of my Fibromyalgia.

"As well as widespread pain, people with Fibromyalgia may also have: increased sensitivity to pain, fatigue (extreme tiredness), muscle stiffness, difficulty sleeping, problems with mental processes (known as "fibro-fog") such as problems with memory and concentration, headaches and IBS."

It was genuinely the first time I'd ever heard about any of this, besides the muscle problems. Of course, those who know me will know I'm always tired. When I lie down to sleep, it just doesn't happen, and this leaves me with a lot of sleep debt that I'm unable to 'pay off'. I also suffer from some stiffness in the muscles, which usually only occurs near my elbow when I'm carrying bags, or, again, in my legs. I do suffer from some headaches, although they usually don't manifest themselves enough to bother me. What does bother me, however, is the "fibro-fog". And I bloody hate the name of it because it sounds so happy, but it's making me the most miserable person right now. Although I didn't know it existed until today, little did I know I wrote a blog about it only a few weeks ago, which you can find HERE. In it I talk in more depth about my memory loss, and what I believed the causes of it were, although we know now that I was completely wrong. Well... not entirely wrong, because also on the NHS website was a segment about the causes of Fibromyalgia:

"The condition appears to be triggered by a physically or emotionally challenging event, such as: an injury or infection, giving birth, having an operation, the breakdown of a relationship, or the death of a loved one."

I won't go too far into it because it feels like I'd be trying to convince you that I have the condition - which is not something I'm prepared to do - but I will say that 3/5 of those criteria have happened to me in the last 6 months. I have a recurring infection in a gland in my leg, which at times returns so badly that surgery is considered, whilst I've also split up with Jayson and lost my Grandad recently. I've also been avoiding lessons in which I'm aware I'd need to seriously work, because I cannot concentrate for long enough to complete it. Nor am I in any position to stress myself out further. Now I know my concentration issue is a part of my illness I've been able to accept that part of myself, and provide a medical reason as to why I can't attend. Most teachers have been extremely sympathetic about it.

But what annoys me - what really annoys me - is how it's affecting my ability to maintain a relationship. Since I've started at college I have tried to feel something, anything, but nope, nothing's happening. I mean, I've peaked at times, but my emotions are still really confusing to me. Because of this I feel like I'm letting people down and that's the last thing I want. I have never disliked myself this much.

Meaghan xx

M. Scott Peck: "The Road Less Travelled" // PART ONE // Notes

~WARNING guys, this is going to be a long one!~

Recently I've taken to buying books from charity shops, though that is not to say that charity shops are my one source of literary income. Nor am I saying there's any shame in buying a few from there - especially if they're good quality - but if you end up loving the book it's my personal preference to go and buy a new copy from Waterstones, WHSmith or wherever. In the past few weeks I've bought about five, I reckon, but I haven't yet finished any of them. The one I've started is a kind of 'self-help' book, written by psychiatrist M. Scott Peck, called 'The Road Less Travelled' which is described as 'A New Psychology of Love, Traditional Values and Spiritual Growth'. I was particularly intrigued by this book as I quite recently went through a break-up which left me wondering about the true definition of love (i.e. does it really exist, or is it just dependency? etc.) and also I've always been keen on psychiatry and psychology, though I'd never previously read any novel-type books on the subjects. This being a 'Number 1 International Bestseller,' I thought it may be a good place to start. The blurb was also very persuasive:

"Confronting and solving problems is a painful process which most of us attempt to avoid. And the very avoidance results in greater pain and an inability to grow both mentally and spiritually. Drawing heavily on his own professional experience, Dr. M. Scott Peck, a practising psychiatrist, suggests ways in which facing our difficulties - and suffering through the changes - can enable us to reach a higher level of self-understanding. He discusses the nature of loving relationships: how to recognise true compatibility; how to distinguish dependency from love; how to become one's own person and how to be a more sensitive parent. This book is a phenomenon. Continuously on the US bestseller list for five years, it will change your life."

Immediately, the first thing I liked about it was the vocabulary. The terminology isn't hard to follow at all, despite being a book written by an intellectual. Of course, it's challenging, but there was nothing I couldn't get my head around. I see it as an old book because it was first published in 1983 - that's over ten years before I arrived on the planet - and I have to admit, being a teenager, reading a book where the author still refers to himself, or the reader, as "one," did strike me as a bit peculiar. But anyhow, I was content. As I read I tended to highlight the most important parts; the things I'd like to remember. While I have the chance, I'd like to share them with you, readers, so that you don't necessarily have to read the whole book if you don't want to, but you'll still gain something.

In the first chapter, focussed on 'Problems and Pain', Peck suggests how to overcome problems. He writes, "Once we truly know that life is difficult - once we truly understand and accept it - then life is no longer difficult... the fact that life is difficult no longer matters." Whilst this could be seen as a reductionist point of view, Peck backs it up with another point: that humans treat life as if it should be easy, although we're all well aware that at times it's not. But we go on about it like it's our God-given right to have an easy life - moaning about everything that is thrown our way. He adds, "We procrastinate, hoping that they [the problems] will go away. We ignore them, forget them, pretend they do not exist. We even take drugs to assist us in ignoring them." Essentially, the formation of negative thoughts and opinions are truly a form of distraction from our problems which we should be fighting to confront or overcome. But the one quote that really opened my eyes in this section was: "The tendency to avoid problems and the emotional suffering inherent in them is the primary basis of all human mental illness." So basically, avoidance is a big, fat "not normal" and by ignoring our problems we are acting as irrational as a mentally-ill person... brilliant. Peck provides a solution: "To willingly confront a problem early, before we are forced to confront it by circumstances, means to put aside something pleasant for something more painful. It is choosing to suffer now," rather than more so in the future.

But hang on - procrastination? Don't we all procrastinate? Isn't it a bit weird to say that procrastination is, in a way, wrong? Well the simple answer to that question is no. Procrastination is avoidance. We all do it. Just because it is practised by the majority of people, it doesn't mean it can't be unhealthy. However, just when you think Peck is against procrastination, he criticises himself - saying: "It is our frontal lobes, our capacity to think and examine ourselves that most makes us human." In my opinion it is this which sometimes leads to stubbornness or impulsiveness; both stereotypical qualities of teenagers. Because of this, teenagers can be notoriously hard to work with or rehabilitate. He explains, "Adolescents are resentful of any attempt to intervene in their lifestyle of impulsiveness, and even when this resentment can be overcome by warmth and friendliness... it is often so severe that it precludes their participation in the process of psychotherapy." In all honesty, this thought scared me - because he's so right. I'm seventeen years old and I'm still so resistant to change. This quote almost made me want to give up on the idea of counselling altogether because I'm not sure I'd actually be willing to negotiate my lifestyle. When you're stuck between a rock and a hard place, you don't really want someone else to decide which one you go crashing into, do you?

Sentimentality can also be a huge obstacle. Writing about one of his patients, Peck says: "When confronted with a personal problem, she behaved as if she were totally lacking in intelligence... she was not willing to tolerate her discomfort long enough to analyse the problem." For me, at the moment, I would say this is my biggest flaw. If a close friend makes us feel terrible for long periods of time, we absolutely have the right to walk away from them. We are torn between a positive relationship which is somewhat inconstant, and knowing that torment and pain could be avoided if we chose to let them go. I am the kind of person that chooses the pain. If you believe Peck, this could be down to an insufficiency of self-worth. To quote: "When one considers oneself valuable, then we will feel our time to be valuable, and if we feel our time to be valuable, then we will want to use it well."  This reminded me of the popular Stephen Chbosky quote, "We accept the love we think we deserve." Simply put, we need to have respect for ourselves and to recognise our time as important and significant in order to get things done. According to Peck, if we use our days unproductively then we lack self-worth and also self-discipline. I can definitely relate to this. Recently I referred to my life as a series of "reward, reward, reward, WORK" (where the term "reward" means anything I enjoy and "work" means anything I do not enjoy) when really it is far more logical to systemise your days into "WORK, reward, WORK, reward."

Another of my favourite quotes from the first few chapters is, "The only way we can be certain that our map of reality is valid is to expose it to the criticism and challenge of other map-makers." Here, the 'map of reality' is a term used to describe the path we have chosen to take and 'map-makers' are simply other people - maybe your friends, or your family. What Peck is saying, effectively, is that it is wise not to make independent decisions. You are bias to your emotions. Other people are far more skilled at recognising what is bad for you, what is taking its toll on you or what you'd be better without. In a way, I see this blog as a way of exposing my life to other people, especially when I write personal posts. That'll be all for now, guys, but I'm certain I'll write more as I continue to read.

Tuesday 11th March 2014 // Jack's 17th Birthday!

You know me, I love a good moan, but today I'm happy! Despite waking up with muscle pain near my dodgy gland (which suffers from reoccurring infections) and considering the fact that I probably can't put off surgery any longer, that is. After cuddling up to an ice-pack and drugging myself up with Ibuprofen last night, I woke up able to walk - which is always a blessing - and a good thing too because it's Jack's birthday. Being the poor student that I am I was only able to contribute a can of Coke to his cause but he didn't seem to mind.

Tuesdays are usually a bit of a bummer for me because most of the people I'd consider my 'best friends' are off but today was a total anomaly. It started off slow like normal, with Jack and I being forced to sit through Adele's Psychology lesson against our will, but soon picked up once everyone got into the spirit. Jack was completely spoilt by Keisha's family and, bless him, he had to lug about a massive cake for all of us to share. I'm not really a cake person but even I indulged. Later on, my English classmates and I were informed that our usual teacher wouldn't be in, and so we decided to skip our lesson with a substitute to go and celebrate Jack's birthday in style, which is where the fun really began.

Jack, Keisha, Shari, Manleen and I made our way into town and bought a decent amount of booze with the little money we had left, then sat by the river to drink to our heart's content. We sat on the grass listening to old music; my empty stomach meaning that I got pretty tipsy pretty quickly, but we were all still sober enough to tell Jack all the things we loved about him. For Keisha it was the little things in their relationship, for me it was the support he'd shown me in hard times. Shari was thankful for their long-lasting friendship and Manleen gave her reasons too. We went and pulled up a couple of daffodils for him, who unzipped his rucksack just enough to keep them showing. Cairo turned up and I even tried Shari's e-light (though to say I was crap at smoking it would be an understatement) although I'm pretty sure I wouldn't smoke a real cigarette no matter how drunk I was.

I knew I was making a fool of myself, but I didn't care all too much because everyone was happy and smiley. I don't think I've ever heard Keisha laugh so much. Obviously, it sucked that Paige wasn't there 'cuz she's basically my drinking buddy, but that said I know there'll be plenty more awesome days ahead for our little group to share. Today felt really special, like I was experiencing college life as it's supposed to be.

Hasta la vista! Meaghan xx

Friday 28th February 2014 // Mental Illnesses Aren't 'Labels'

For those of you who aren't AS Psychology students, let me assure you that the Rosenhan "Being Sane in Insane Places" core study is every bit as controversial, but not nearly as philosophical or respectable, as the title sounds. That is, pretending to be mentally ill - Schizophrenic to be exact - in the hopes that you can research how easy it is to get into a psychiatric hospital, is just a tiny bit unethical. Nowadays I tend to write blog-posts on things that have caught my eye; good or bad. Today, I'm moaning... again. I might take it up professionally. Anyway, the two aims of the Rosenhan study are as follows: 

1. "Find out whether mental health professionals can truly tell the difference between the sane and the insane"

2. "Discover the consequences of being labelled as insane"

What really got to me was the use of the word "labelled". Labelling someone as mentally ill. You cannot label someone with a mental illness! They either have one or they don't - in the same way that a Diabetes sufferer has not been labelled, they have been diagnosed. All the way through the core study it's labelled, labelled, labelled, and I'll be honest, I got bloody sick of it. Labels are social tags. Emo is a label, slag is a label, goth could even be classed as a label - but not Schizophrenia. It's a serious mental illness and a medical term, yet even my Psychology tutor was surrendering to the core study, spouting the word "label" just as much as the paper in front of me.

In her defence, she must not know that I have a mother with Schizophrenia. I thought about sticking my hand up in the air and arguing, but what would be the point? I have no doubt that she'd defend herself with some intelligent but still wrong response; leaving me with no chance but to agree with her, but no way in Hell was that happening. I didn't want to look like an idiot, nor did I really want to be that girl, the one that has to point out her mother is mentally ill. I didn't really want everyone in the room looking at me every time Schizophrenia is mentioned.

What I'd suggest to all teachers is, if you're studying a sensitive topic like mental illness with a group of teenagers, please find out beforehand if there's anyone in the class it might strike a nerve with. And please make sure you don't offend them by reducing a mental illness to a "label".

Meaghan

Wednesday 12th February 2014 // Grandad Bill

Hi, guys.

I'll start this post by saying that my best friend, Jayson, left for Paris on Sunday morning and I was very uncertain about how I would feel about him going away. Those who know me will know that we dated for three years, and there wasn't a day that went by without us talking. Obviously, with him going abroad, I wasn't expecting a message. I thought I'd find it hard to cope, or miss him terribly - but as it turned out, there were more important things to think about. My Grandad was taken into hospital on Monday afternoon because he was struggling to breathe, so I started spending a lot of time in hospital with him. (Jayson texted me at least once every night, so that made life less stressful than it could have been.)

My Grandad had a condition called Angina, which was caused by passive smoking (whereby you don't actively smoke yourself but breathe in the harsh chemicals from the cigarettes other people are smoking. I like to call it "smoking by association"). We thought Angina was the reason he was struggling for his breath - and we were partly right - but none of us could have guessed the extent of the problem. A few weeks ago, he had been hospitalised in Nottingham, where he was treated for external Shingles. My family didn't find out until yesterday, but Shingles had activated another virus; one which covered the walls of his lungs and chest. Coupled with his Angina, and his age, he didn't stand much chance of fighting it off. Grandad died on Tuesday evening, aged 81, surrounded by his family. Me, my sister, my Dad, my Uncle, and my Uncle's wife, were all present. My cousin Kim and her husband, Michael, were just a few minutes too late. While Grandad was alive, I never said goodbye. I felt guilty about it for a few minutes until I realised that I was there at the end; I never left. No need to say goodbye, and no need to feel guilty.

He looked peaceful, almost like he was sleeping. My Dad is devastated. He's only 41 years old and has lost both his parents. If you read my blog often, you'll know that he was planning a trip up to Banff this year to commemorate 10 years since my Grandma's death. Instead of being a chance to remember my Grandma, it will now be a bittersweet trip - considering my Grandad wants us to throw his ashes up there. To be near my Grandma. Well, half of him. He wants the other half in Blackpool. As you can tell, he loved the seaside. He used to tell me and my sister than when he died he'd reincarnate into a seagull and he'd let us know it was him because he'd poo on us. You'll also know that I used to be scared of the big grey chimneys in Derby Hospital, next to the mortuary. Although I still find them eerie, they won't remind me of my childhood fears anymore, or my Mum's illness, they'll remind me of Grandad's life.

The things I want to remember about Grandad:

• How he slapped his leg and laughed when he found something really funny.
• Him calling everybody, everywhere, "duck," however inappropriate.
• How he treated everyone with the same courtesy and respect.
• His love of photography, family, animals, and the occasional fridge magnet.
• How he'd tap my arm when I hugged him.
• How he'd draw a picture of his budgie on every card he signed.
• How proud of me he was! When I used to run, and play football, he backed me all the way - running after me with a camera on sports day at primary school. He even used to keep the little poems I wrote for him. If it weren't for him I'd never have been published in any book.

Grandad was the kindest, sweetest, nicest, most generous man I have ever had the good fortune of knowing and I have absolutely no doubts about which direction he's gone. I know the saying is common, but Heaven definitely gained an angel. He's with Grandma, somewhere. I love you.

Tuesday 4th February 2014 // Dad's Tattoo (For Grandma Muriel)

While I waited anxiously at home for my doctor's appointment, my Dad went out to get his 20-somethingth tattoo. This one was inspired by Banksy's artwork of the little girl holding a balloon; although Dad asked the tattooist (who happens to be our cousin, Abby) to change the girl into a boy so it would represent himself. I should mention that the tattoo is dedicated to my Grandma Muriel, his mother, who passed away almost ten years ago. The anniversary's coming up soon... this May.

When Dad told me about the idea, I loved it. My Grandma died when I was seven years old and to this day I still feel like I lost a best friend. In the years after her death, I'd often write her name on a balloon and watch it fly into the sky (her real name was Alice, but she always asked to be called Muriel - her middle name). So not only is the tattoo symbolic of my Dad; it's also symbolic of me and my sister.

It's not the first memorial tattoo Dad's had for his mum - the first was a script which reads 'Rest In Peace' one way and 'Dear Mother' the other, depending on where you're viewing it from.

A couple of years ago my Dad and I, along with my siblings Arron and Tiegan and our Grandad Bill, went up to Banff in Scotland, where my Grandma was born, to walk down the streets that she once walked down. For the 10th anniversary of her death, we're hoping to go back up there and put some flowers on her parents' grave, where her ashes were thrown. I really love it there and I'm hoping my Dad does decide to go up - a lot. It's sad that Arron probably won't be joining us, or my Grandad Bill. I know my Grandma would have wanted that. She died at 69 years old of a "hole in the heart" or Septal Defect, while awaiting treatment for throat cancer.

Meaghan xx

John Green: "The Fault In Our Stars" // Review

"Despite the tumour-shrinking medical miracle that has bought her a few years, Hazel has never been anything but terminal, her final chapter inscribed upon diagnosis. But when a gorgeous plot twist named Augustus Waters suddenly appears at Cancer Kid Support Group, Hazel's story is about to be completely rewritten."

The Fault In Our Stars, probably one of the world's best-loved books, comes as the most compelling read I've had in a very long time. Since I've been seventeen, I've been more inclined to read more 'mature' books and move away (although not completely away) from books about supernatural or mythological goings-on like that of Meg Cabot's "Underworld" and others. If you're attempting to do the same, The Fault In Our Stars would be a wonderful place to start. Although fictitious, this book felt very real to me.

I've read John Green before, beginning with his book "Looking For Alaska". Although it was an okay read, it didn't hit me like The Fault In Our Stars; which had me constantly turning pages from 3pm to 11:45pm last night. When you can read a book in a day, you know you're in love with it. One thing I loved about it was that it is out of the ordinary. Hazel, the book's main character, is on a completely fictitious drug called Pholanxifor which makes her cancer manageable; at least for now. The fact that John Green made up Pholanxifor is astounding to me. It was a genius idea - it allows the reader some distance from the modern-day situation, where the sad reality is that drugs like Pholanxifor just don't exist. With this in mind, you can read the book like a fantasy or maybe even a watered-down sci-fi. However, I did not discover the drug wasn't in existence until the book's final pages - and so everything in the book was very real to me at the time of reading it.

Another thing I loved was the use of intertextuality (I'm going all 'English Literature student' on you here, but it's true); whereby The Fault In Our Stars has connections with a fictional book Green creates called "An Imperial Affliction". Green writes about this as Hazel's favourite book. I was under the impression that it really existed, although that doesn't, either! Anyway, AIA supposedly ends mid-sentence with the assumption that the main character died in the middle of writing; leaving Hazel with an unavoidable urge to find out how it ends before she herself dies. Throughout the book I was so scared that The Fault In Our Stars would end mid-sentence too - but (SPOILER) I'm so glad that it didn't. I'm so glad that we never have to hear about how Hazel dies.

I am also able to say that I actually learned something from this book. There are many quotable lines, which you'll undoubtedly come across if you log onto Tumblr, but there is one section of text which, more than any other, I found solace in. When thinking about her own death, Hazel says, "I kept thinking there were two kinds of adults... Neither of these futures struck me as particularly desirable. It seemed to me that I had already seen everything pure and good in the world, and I was beginning to suspect that even if death didn't get in the way, the kind of love that Augustus and I share could never last... Nothing gold can stay."
Although I do not imagine myself becoming terminally ill often, this book makes you question how you would handle such an event. This quote resonated with me - and if I was dying, I imagine words like this would comfort me. The way John Green has put himself into the mind of someone with cancer is incredible and although the book is not all doom and gloom, it has been written in such an exquisite way that you almost don't feel pity for cancer sufferers anymore - you respect them.

So, if you have a day to spare, pick this book up. I cannot stress that enough. Don't fear that it will make you depressed, because that's not the effect it had on me, although I did have doubts about that before I opened the book. There will be tears, I'm not going to lie, but they will be very, very worth it. God help me when the movie comes out.