Skillz and Tooolz

Skills I have used this week, in no particular order. Some of them are old faithfuls, some are new trials or discoveries, and some I have intentionally resurrected as the usefulness of going back to things that have helped in the past has been highlighted to me. Sadly a few are not currently available to me, like ballet, massage, and probably others. There are undoubtedly some I've missed, but a good few here to give you some ideas. If you want more information on any of them just give me a shout in the comments or by direct message.

Trying different intense "push" movements instead of destructive physical actions

Writing (CBT and blogging and general brain dumping)

Going in my nook

Old skills such as emailing updates before sessions to help me talk or make sure I stick to my plans

Talking to people and verbalising my head contents

Not giving space to thoughts/urges that are untrue and unhelpful, even if they feel like they are true and helpful

Reminding myself of why those things aren't true and reasons why I do life differently now

Allowing amygdala to party when it really needs to, but not in a destructive way

Sensory walks - touching and smelling the conifer leaves, tiptoeing along the kerb etc

Tai chi

Paying attention to what my body is telling me and how it tells me that (eg. I needed to wear my noise-cancelling headphones the whole time I was in town, not just in noisy shops. I was holding the ends of my sleeves and putting my Tangle in my mouth - seeking tactile and proprioceptive input. My stomach had a sicky feeling of anxiety. I wanted my hood up at the beginning of my sensory walk - wanting to be enclosed and reduce sensory input. My shoulders were up high and tense.)

Achieving small tasks such as cooking a meal, booking an appointment or sweeping the kitchen floor

Stretching/moving my body

Sleeping

Noticing how many things I have actually coped with and why things are difficult right now

Putting on upbeat music

Soothing rhythm breathing

Safe/calm/happy place visualisation (! Bet you never thought you'd hear me say that!) and tapping

Playing games on my phone

Jigsaw puzzle

Colouring

Reading

Playing mindfully with Baby Peggy's toys (and Baby Peggy of course!)

Cuddles with Baby Peggy

Message a friend

Fidget tools eg. Tangle

Tiny Things

When everything feels bleak around me and hope is hard to see, when I feel trapped or desperate, I often find that it is some small thing of beauty that saves me. 

A tiny unnoteworthy scrap can catch my focus and become treasure that brings a window of escape to get me through the fog or darkness. Yesterday it was a leaf that I impaled (or threaded, depending on your mood...) onto a twig. So tiny and simple, yet with infinite journeys of discovery, new every moment from every angle as it is moved in the light. Shape and shadow inviting me in and away from the heaviness in my heart. And of course my many Peggies helped at other moments.

Once before, it was a holly leaf. The group facilitator seemed slightly put out that it seemed to hold more of my attention than she did, but she didn't know that an hour or two earlier it helped to keep me alive. Thankfully I have rarely ever had suicidal impulses, but in a dark moment those spiky points, the glossy shine and the smooth edges, they absorbed me enough to get back to a place of safety. I think it's only reasonable that I dwelt with them a little longer. Staring in wonder. Entranced by the power of a single leaf. Two years later I still have that leaf, nestled in my treasure basket for mindful moments when it's needed.

I don't usually talk here about my faith, but I can't let this post pass without reflecting that of course, it is not the little things that save me, it is their maker. He offers them in my moments of need and he holds me in his hand through darkness and light, and the darkness is not dark to him. But through the little things, he saves me over and over again as he has saved me once and for all and given me the only true hope that endures after all suffering.

Also note: this song "Tiny Things" by Yvonne Lyon

Sensory Signals and Sensory Solutions

I have been glad this week that I am aware of my sensory world and how it interacts with my wellbeing. It is helpful that I have practised paying attention to what my sensory inclinations are telling me and how I can utilise sensory experiences as a tool. 

I have just begun some rather heavy and intense therapy work and have really noticed the impact in a sensory way - both as a signal of how I am doing and as a solution to how I am doing. 

I found this interesting because although sensory awareness tasks are often used for grounding, I didn't expect to see the effects of doing this difficult work in a sensory way. The work is cognitive and emotional: the after-effects should be too. Of course, they are, but they are also sensory, and noting that is helpful to me as it is easier for me to observe in myself than just guessing how I'm feeling. And if I were in danger of forgetting that I can use sensory experiences to calm and soothe, spotting the signs of unrest in a sensory way reminds me I can address the unease directly rather than getting caught up in cognition and emotions, which are infinitely complicated. 

It is important when you leave the sessions to leave what happens there as much as possible, to try and minimise the effect on daily life: it is even suggested to change clothes when you get home. As someone who can find transitions difficult anyway (although I do like to compartmentalise, which works in my favour here), when I came out of my session on Thursday I didn't feel ready to jump straight in the car and back into life. I felt I was in a hurry as there had been other things I was hoping to do, but I knew I needed to listen to my body. It wanted to have a little walk and calm and reorientate itself with its senses so that's what we did. I bundled Baby Peggy up and we took a slow and mindful (sensory-engaged/sensory-led) circuit of the Wander Path around the car park. I thought I had post about this path before but cannot for the life of me find the post to link to!

Cold air, bright sun, dark shade, birdsong, trees. Soft conifers to brush hands through, and their scent on your fingers after rubbing the fronds. This smell has grounded me well many times over the past two and a half years. I often used to return to the lingering remnants of sap on my fingers after sitting in my favourite pine tree in the hospital grounds. Even after washing them they would stick together, and the distinctive scent cut through whatever else my brain was trying to do.

And so I calmed and regulated myself with my senses and returned to the world when my body told me it was ready.

And then as the days went by I kept noticing that my sensory tolerance was not as accommodating as usual. I have been fine introducing solids to Baby Peggy and dealing with the mess, wet and stickiness but on Friday I did NOT want his Ready Brek on me. (And it was EVERYWHERE! Have you ever seen someone eat Ready Brek by the handful? Apparently it needs help to get from the spoon into the mouth...) On Saturday I did NOT want him touching my skin (other than hands!) and twizzling with my clothes. On Sunday I needed to use my Tangle to keep me grounded like I haven't for a long time. Which in turn became associated with times when I relied heavily on them. Which then required more grounding. My nails, which need cutting, are driving me mad. The flipsy-flopsy slappery flimmery labels on muslins and clothes are more bothersome than normal when they TOUCH me. (I know those aren't words you will have heard of, but they are my best way of expressing the yucksome experience of such a sensation.)

But the daytime contact naps that have returned with Baby Peggy having a cold mean his warm relaxed weight calms my body. The walk with the trees and the birds refreshed me perfectly. The snug cocoon of the duvet soothes my whole system. My stims like nail-rubbing regulate my general anxiety levels. And simply noticing that my tolerance is below par means I can choose to minimise stressful activities as much as possible, be kind to myself and do things that help me recover as much as possible. 

Snuggles always help!

Sensory awareness is such a useful tool as both a signal of problems and a solution to them, and because I can use it for myself, I can also use it as an aid to inform me about what other people around me might need - Baby Peggy, pupils in my work environment, even friends, family and acquaintances at times. Yay to signals and solutions!

How close to crazy?

Note to self: be less crazy.

I've developed a habit when distressed of repeating a short calming phrase to myself and Baby Peggy. It's quite effective but I think it makes me sound more crazy than I am. Or maybe I am just more crazy than I think I am.

Pacing around repeating "It's ok, we're gonna fix it, it's ok. It's ok, we're gonna fix it, it's ok" (or similar) is not normal behaviour. But it does help! The rhythm of the words, and the reassurance of telling myself that it will be OK even if it's not now can help to stop me escalating further. The sameness of the repetition can eventually smooth the seam of transition between distress actions and problem-solving, de-escalation or "moving-on" actions.

But it is disturbing for others to see (or rather, to hear), particularly if preceded or accompanied by an even more dysregulated presentation of crying, flapping, shaking, self harm, being a ball in a corner etc.

I don't know where the balance lies between helping myself and not being a nuisance. Sometimes it feels as though I can do little about it even if I wanted to and that these are ways to stop anything worse from happening. I have had to accept that being inconspicuous as I would like to be is just not always realistic.

I don't know whether it was the repetitive phrases or the general presentation or the fact I had a baby with me but I obviously went one step too crazy this time. 

It had already been a difficult day on a backdrop of raised stress levels. Meltdown 1 had been surfaced from after two and a half hours of recovery, and Meltdown 2a had avoided escalation by furiously (manically? desperately? absently?) continuing with my previous plan of action. I should have known (and probably did know) that Meltdown 2b was pretty much inevitable if anything even slightly untoward were to greet me.

Which of course it did in the car park of Aldi, in the form of a lady unloading a trolley in the back of the space I was reversing into.

The car was half in and half out of the space, waiting didn't fix it and instead the lady started to gesture to me (I was too stressed out from earlier to process that her signals meant she needed me to move out of the way so she could get the trolley out of my way), the baby started to cry, and I was expecting an important phone call at any moment.

Executive function swanned off entirely so I just could not work out what to prioritise or in what order things needed to happen. Or even what things needed to happen! Luckily having a baby makes it simpler in some ways as they trump all else on a fundamental level that can usually penetrate even the depths of my problems. Start with the baby and hope the rest follows. 

Of course, starting with the baby meant getting out of the car, which meant the problem that involved another person put itself all over me while my brain was still offline and in basic "comfort the baby" mode. It could only do one job at that moment - language was pretty much absent other than repeating a comforting phrase. Responsive language, problem solving and social interaction were way down my brain's priority pathways and out of reach. So I was largely ignoring the other lady in order to do the thing I needed to do first.

I would have got through, and indeed did get through, all the other jobs eventually, it just took longer than for other people and I looked more unusual whilst doing it.

And so I worked through the backlog of tasks and got onto the supermarket shop about fifteen minutes later. (The lady solved the problem that involved both of us in the meantime, which took a job off my list!) Order restored after a really difficult afternoon.

And then the bit that made me realise once again that I'm actually a crazy person. A couple of police officers wandering up the aisle opposite. Not hugely unusual in the town where I live so I carried on as normal. But it turned out it was me they wanted. The lady had been worried enough that she had sent the police to check on me. 

They were very calm and as discreet as they could be and we just had a little chat and they left me to it (although they did wait outside the shop and check on me again when I got to my car!) but it was a new experience for me and not entirely comfortable. I know I can be unusual and do become distressed at times, but generally I find my way through things and don't tend to cause others a problem. When this happened I felt even more conspicuous. I felt embarrassed being talked to by officers in public. And I felt acutely aware that I needed to present myself in a very "normal" manner or it would be so easy to suddenly find myself on the wrong side of crazy, popped into a van and detained for assessment. It's the second time I've had a possible close shave with the mental health act and it makes you feel suddenly very vulnerable.

I suppose I am grateful that somebody cared enough to make sure I was OK (I had assured her that I was, but clearly hadn't convinced her), but the whole thing left me unsettled. I realised when I went out the next day that I was really quite anxious. Anxious I would have another meltdown - they are not fun and because of the high distress of that day as well as the pre-existing background stress factors I am now feeling much more like I did eighteen months ago than how I've been feeling recently - and additionally anxious that if I did, someone would report it and I'd end up on the wrong side of crazy, with people saying I can't look after my baby or sectioning me. Until yesterday I felt less anxious in public than before having a baby: I know how to act with a baby, I know the conversations off by heart, I know how to behave with a baby, I have a purpose so am not occupied by trying not to be weird etc.  But now I feel more anxious instead, because of other people's responses to me doing what I need to do. And I also start to question the confidence I had in being able to look after a baby. If I can get that distressed around him then am I really fit? I hope I am, but it has shaken me and knocked my confidence. It has made me a little paranoid in public and much more likely to mask, which is widely recognised as being detrimental to wellbeing (also borne out by my personal experience).

So I guess I have to once more examine the balance of how much "me" is acceptable, and how close to crazy is too close.

But for the minute I'll just snuggle down with Baby Peggy, go for walks away from the people, and try to let my brain get back to "now" me instead of year-and-a-half-ago me.

Some "rest the brain" activities

Is it OK that Everybody's Toolbox is Different?

Somebody that I know has been thriving in a setting that is fairly new to them. It is a very controlled environment with minimal disruption to routines or unexpected occurrences, and a limited number of people, nearly all of whom are known and only a few of whom are regularly in the room. There is little change in the sensory environment beyond daily variations caused by weather etc. This person notices any other changes very quickly on arrival into the room and discusses them to help them process the difference. When the person is tired they are easily overwhelmed by sensory stimuli or mishaps, but generally they manage well and thrive in the setting, developing skills rapidly and displaying positive signs of good wellbeing. 

Masking serves a protective
purpose but is harmful

Life at home has improved too. More dysregulation is seen than in the setting (Home is a safe place and it is completely normal for more distress to be expressed in the home. Where the distress is displayed is often not the same place as the place that causes the build-up of stress.), but markedly less than before spending time in the new setting. This means the improvements seen in the new setting are likely to be genuinely benefitting the person rather than them masking until they get home and then experiencing even worse distress.

The situation that is causing most difficulty for this person at the moment is going out and about in the world. In the new setting and at home independence skills such as walking and managing their own levels of sensory tolerance (eg. asking to wash hands before sensations become completely overwhelming and lead to meltdown) are really coming into their own and meaning this person can access many more of the opportunities they want to in the way that they want to, but it's frustrating for them and upsetting for those spending time with them that this isn't working in the community yet.

The noise of the street has been raised as one issue that may be contributing to their overwhelm and dysregulation when out and about and my first go-to was to wonder aloud whether they would benefit from trying ear defenders. The initial response from another person in the conversation was hesitant. "Hm... but we wouldn't want them to get overly dependent on them and not learn to cope. They might just wear them all the time because of the novelty factor."

Now, ear defenders or noise cancelling headphones are not a simple fix. Some people find the physical sensations of having them on their heads worse than dealing with the sounds. They are more effective for dulling certain sounds than others so their usefulness depends somewhat on which sounds are bothersome. So they may not be useful for this person anyway and I'm certainly not going to enforce something that doesn't benefit a person. But at this point I was simply thinking allowed about offering an opportunity to try them out in case they did help, and the initial response surprised me from someone who is enormously caring and only ever wants to bring benefits to people's lives. 

To begin with it bothered me and I felt cross that they could be so cruel and potentially deny someone something that might help (the person described wouldn't be likely to have this idea themselves or the possibility to source the resource) because in their view using ear defenders would be a negative thing. Then I had a word with myself and realised that this was not the intent. I know this person and they have no malicious intent. They want to help, but they are uninformed and I might be able to help them to see a different perspective. 

The beauty of a good working relationship and reflective people who genuinely want the best is that we can have these conversations and we are willing to change our opinion when we are shown new aspects of a situation that we weren't aware of. 

New skills and resources are so much fun!

I pointed out that our friend does definitely overdo things on the novelty factor but that it only tends to last a couple of weeks. When they learnt to drink out of an open cup with a straw they drank excessively for two or three weeks, but this soon regulated itself to a normal intake with little to no input from those around. 

And what I hope I remembered to convey is that tools and aids are called tools and aids because they do just that. They help. They mean you can do more than you could otherwise. Just because someone can walk short distances sometimes doesn't mean that they should never use a wheelchair if it means they can access places where they can't walk the distance, or where they can stay for longer because they haven't used up the energy walking. Using a wheelchair to get around a shopping centre might mean they can get out in the shops to look at the items, and that they can visit more shops than if they were walking. And anyway, if someone needs to wear ear defenders 24/7, why shouldn't they?

"Learning to cope" is a dangerous phrase. It usually translates to "learning not to outwardly show distress." And if that "learning" has ever happened to you, you will know how dangerous it is. Sensory issues can change over time but far more often the distress is simply transferred. It may well be internalised, meaning immediate distress is not seen but building higher levels of background stress and lower tolerance to triggers: more meltdowns later. Sometimes there is shutdown instead of the forbidden meltdowns (these are just as distressing for the person, but don't tend to bother others), or people learn to dissociate, or self-harm in a hidden way to cope with the overload. The damage to a person's identity from learning that who they are is not acceptable leads to mental health problems that may or may not display in typical ways. The exclusion from activities and settings that they could enjoy and benefit from with a few simple accommodations is not only a shame and a sad thing that people are missing out. It is a disgrace if there is something we knew we could do or offer (or allow others to do) and we don't. 

You wouldn't deny someone sunglasses at the beach because if they just went without then they'd learn to cope. You know that not wearing sunglasses wouldn't kill them, but you also know they will enjoy their day more if they are wearing them. 

Would you tell a short person they should really be able to manage without using a step to reach something on the top shelf? Would you refuse to let a dyslexic person use a colour filter to assist their reading and tell them they will manage in the end without it?

Aids used by people whose brains use more space to deal with input or tasks are exactly that. They make life easier, they make tasks quicker, more comfortable, more enjoyable and allow people to do more of what they want and need to do. They do not signify laziness, a desire for attention, or weakness. They are tools used by resourceful people who are actively trying to participate in their own lives in a world where that is more difficult for them than for other people.

Everyone uses tools, it's just that you're used to seeing sunglasses, dishwashers, cars and scissors. Next time you see a tool in action that you don't use, instead of writing it off as weirdness, laziness or weakness, have a look at the function it provides and see if you can imagine all the different benefits it brings its user. 

Some tools seem to bring judgment on their users, and it isn't right.

Edited to add: Variable Conditions

This happens all the time to people who use different tools from "the norm" and to people whose conditions vary (think of the wheelchair example above). If someone doesn't need an aid all the time, it still doesn't mean they are being weak or lazy or demanding attention when they do use it. It simply means they have greater need of it at that time.

Even in a special school where we should be helping people find skills to regulate their own internal state in whatever way works for them, I see judgment of using tools and aids worryingly frequently. Talking is somehow "better" than using AAC (alternative or augmentative communication, eg. text to speech apps, writing, Picture Exchange Communication System). If you can talk suddenly it may be frowned upon to use a different method of communication even though they've been teaching you to use it for years... And you can say more with your AAC... And you can say it with less stress with your AAC... Surely communication (and thereby increased wellbeing) is the goal, not speech?

I'm here to say, as a generally verbal autistic person with relatively low support needs and a largely independent life, these things matter. I am non-verbal at times. Just because I can talk most of the time doesn't mean I always can. And even when I can, it doesn't mean I can say what I need to say or that it's my most effective communication method. In therapy I have used writing at least as much as I have talked. In some situations eg. shutdown I use a bit of signing, or flashcards or write a note. It gets my problem solved, which I wouldn't be able to do verbally. The more tools we give people to put in their toolbox (and support them to be able to use them), the better equipped they are to fix problems and to build things they enjoy. Why wouldn't we?

Best buys from the last year

If you know me you'll know I'm not big on having "things" and buying stuff or spending money unless I need to or it's something I'm going to really enjoy (like a holiday!). But here are things that I have bought or received over the last year that have repaid me infinitely for my investments. All except the first one under £10 or £20 but genuinely life-changing.

Bose noise cancelling headphones. Definitely my biggest investment but totally worth it. My sister very kindly lent me hers while I was in the general hospital and actually I didn't use them too much there. Maybe because I didn't need them much, as I was originally going to write, being in a side room so having a door I could close. But probably more because I didn't realise I needed them. I didn't realise what a difference they could make. I had some normal in-ear headphones I used at times when I wanted to listen to something without closing my door so I thought that was fine - it was all I had ever known. But when some particular noises on the specialist unit became too much I tried out the noise cancelling headphones properly. I never looked back! The sound quality is fantastic and the noise cancelling reduces or eliminates a lot of background noise, particularly low-pitched hums eg. fridge/freezers in supermarkets, traffic noise. They make it more possible for me to use the telephone because at least I can actually hear the person on the other end, and they mean that I have varying degrees of removal from the ambient sound-world. If I play music loudly enough I can't hear my surroundings, or if I just use the noise cancelling I can hear my surroundings but the over-all input is reduced enough to reduce my stress levels. Sometimes just putting them on without turning them on is enough to take the edge off things that are just a little too loud, such as amplified music or voices at church.

Onesie. I love my onesie so much and wear it most evenings. revolutionary dressing gown alternative for people who can't help flailing around. Made of thick jersey (think joggers/tracksuit/hoody material) it is cosy without being that yucky stuff that is sold as fleece these days. Actual fleece is good - the furry stuff NO! Especially if it's shiny. 

Stanley (gift). Stanley is my weighted sloth. He is full of beans literally. He can go in the microwave and be cosy warm if you can cope with the smell his beans make, but if not, he is good for sitting on the knee, accompanying you in the car if in need of some extra comfort, swinging around in therapy sessions to help you stay regulated enough to say what you need to say, and he's very calming if you sit him on your head. NB. It doesn't have to be a Sloth, that is just the animal chosen by Mr Peggy who bestowed this most excellent gift on me last Christmas (OK, so technically not my own best buy, but a best buy!).

A tin of black paint, with gifted variety of sensory lights, shelf and beanbag. This was all that was required to make my sensory nook, and that has been a complete gamechanger. Low stim environment where I can go any time I am at home, to destress, recharge, regulate and either maintain calm or tolerate distress. Also more recently acquired: dark tent so I can have a nook when we go away places, and blinds for the car windows in case I need a bit of down time when I'm out and about.

Love my nook!

Compression socks. These are new and technically designed for plantar fasciitis, but I use them in a sensory way. My feet get sad and dead when they are in shoes all day at work. They need some light sensory input so that I can be aware of them being part of me during the day and this helps to keep me regulated. Wearing them for about half the day under my socks is about right. Other days I use insoles with a big metatarsal support or trampoline park socks with the little anti-slip bobbles on the bottom.

Tangles. You'll rarely see me in public without one! They keep my hands awake and give low-level anxiety an outlet so that it doesn't build up as quickly. They also seem to be quite a good indicator of my stress levels for other people, who can be better able to tell how I am feeling by what I am doing with a Tangle than by any other verbal or non-verbal indicator...
I have a nice collection of other fidget toys/stim tools from spiky spring rings (love these!) to squeezy balls (!) to magic snake cubes and natural objects like stones. Just shout if you'd like any inspiration!

When your communication needs can't be accommodated

At the risk of becoming ranty, I'm turning to trusty Mr Blogger once more to solve all my life's problems. I mean, to help me process things that happen and deal with my emotions in a non-destructive way, of course!

I have a particular problem at the moment and I can't find a way to solve it. I've tried really hard to make it work and I've resiliently asked for help and expressed the problem multiple times, but to no avail. Hence I fear this is just going to turn into a rant.

I knew there would be difficulty in having all my post-discharge support remotely (in hospital, I had support to access remote appointments and to debrief after them and still had trouble managing), and I knew the adjustment from 24/7 care to 2 remote appointments a week would be challenging. I also knew that the phone and video calls were my only option, so I got on with it. I found things that helped: using my headphones so I can hear better and am not filtering out extra sound to hear the voice on the other end, buying extra data so I can take my support team for walks - it's easier to engage and process when I'm outside, and once I've used the movement to help me regulate at the beginning of the call I usually feel better able to sit somewhere and manage the rest of it. I take time out in my sensory cave when I'm feeling overwhelmed after a call. I am trying so hard to make it work.

All these things help, and mean that on a good day I can get benefit out of an appointment even though I come away exhausted and often realise shortly afterwards that I didn't say what I needed to say, or that I didn't process something properly and missed out some conversation that could have really helped both of us.

But on a bad day I can't communicate properly. I can't say things at all so the person doesn't even think I'm communicating (often they probably think that I'm managing with the remote conversations because I am engaging and talking about some useful stuff). They go away because they think it's a bad time to talk, and I'm left feeling even more alone, hopeless, trapped and useless because my one chance at getting some help has failed. I have to survive until the next opportunity. Which I still can't access properly because I'm still autistic. 

I have a meltdown afterwards. The only way I can get help is by dialing another number. I don't know why I think this will help. Maybe I don't, but it's the instructions I've been given and it's my last shot at trying to help myself. I'm working on resilience. Keep on trying. Unsurprisingly I struggle with that phone call. Eventually they get some information out of me. They say they'll get my nurse who knows me better to ring me back. I can't tell them that I've only spoken to her 4 times anyway and another phone call is going to add to my distress and overload, not solve anything.

She rings back later and it's a disaster for both of us. She shouldn't have been put in that position, but it wasn't anyone's fault. I couldn't give them the information they needed. I'm the problem. Another meltdown. It's a good job I've lost all sense of public decorum or awareness of anything beyond my distress or I'd be very embarrassed by my behaviour.

I get home and stay safe the rest of the day, thankful for the presence of Mr Peggy. All the blankets, time to write an email apologising for my distress on the phone and trying to explain my problem (this email to send via my other nurse, because they're the only one I'm allowed to email). Comedy TV. They all help me keep calm until the night time. The odd half hour of sleep here or there. The anxiety builds before the second of my scheduled phone calls of the week, with the poor Peg from yesterday. I can hardly bring myself to answer it. It's my last attempt at engaging in this remote support - I'm going to have to go it alone after this. I know where that is likely to lead.

The phone call doesn't help. She can't fix anything (not her fault), I can't fix anything. She goes away, not wanting to overwhelm me with telephone conversations, but meaning I'm support-less for another 8 days. "Ring the office or the crisis team if you need any more support." Great plan.

I've tried all avenues, so I guess it's like it's always been: you have to cope alone and you should be able to. I spent seven months being told it's OK to be different and have different needs, and being helped to work things out, but none of that's true in the real world. Your needs are unreasonable. The 8 days may well be longer, because I'm not sure I can face the disappointment and distress of another phone call and its aftermath. 

Sometimes lockdown is really 💩

And the OT, insurance people and car servicing people trying to ring of me may as well go stick their heads in an oven (although actually, often if you explain your difficulties they do accommodate and communicate by email...).

What I'm doing to cope

I thought all this talk of sadness might be bringing you down, so I've decided to give you a peek at some of the many and varied strategies that are making life better and keeping me going!

Small, manageable projects, some of which are wonderful to share, others of which are most useful alone.

Creating my sensory cave - this one is a double whammy because as well as a project to do, it is already benefiting me enormously, and more than I dared to imagine, as a low stimulus space where I can be alone, in control and recharge.

Gardening with Mr Peggy - this is so much fun, and something we've discovered we love to do together. I've always wistfully thought I'd love to garden, but usually I just kill stuff! We're trying some flowers and fruits so watch this space! And in amongst them are some really meaningful plants for me, given to me by various people who I'm missing a lot. It helps to grow these plants and think of them.

Treasure basket - of favourite sensory items I've collected from meaningful places and perfect little bits given to me by new friends which mean the world. I can tell you the story of each piece.


Walks in the countryside - especially when I'm on the phone, I wander aimlessly out of the village and see where I end up! Good job I have a good nose for getting home again! Being outside really helps me to regulate my body and emotions and to be calm and process. Exploring with Mr Peggy has been great fun and exciting and just a lovely way to spend time.

 






Guinea pigs - always a sensory delight, good fun and cute!



Yoga - a constant that has stayed with me from my time in hospital and one benefit of the lockdown! My weekly Zoom yoga class with the wonderful Hania Therapies. Amy has also been giving a daily 15 minute live yin session throughout May - perfect!

Wordscapes - the one and only game app I have on my phone, but a really useful distraction I've brought back from my time away from home to keep me going in difficult moments. Sporcle is also good for this if the laptop is to hand.

Family and friends - I can't count the number of well-timed messages I've had that have helped me through difficult moments, knowing that I can send a message to Mr Peggy, a Peggy sister or a Geordie Peggy any time and they'll have my back.

Blogging - writing really helps m discover and process what I'm thinking and feeling. As I always say, I do this more for me than for any of you!

And of course, a bit of at-home therapy, cracking out the CBT, DBT etc etc!

Bad, broken or different? I need to be alone

Like many others, I have lived most of my adult life in perpetual pursuit of treasured time alone, getting through whatever is happening by aiming towards my next good chunk of alone time. I'm always on the edge (or ever more frequently over the edge) of coping, feeling that things are going to fall apart any minute. The last couple of years they very often have done. Shutdowns became increasingly common, they started to affect more and more situations until I just couldn't function effectively.

Usually I need to be alone...

I've had quite a groundbreaking realisation after being in hospital for an extended period. The first few weeks I spent in my room whenever that was an option. I was settling, learning a new place, new routines, new people and processing a whole load of crazy stuff. Hours and hours of alone time. About four weeks of it, I'd say. But eventually I started to venture out. Optionally spending at first little moments of time in communal areas, then slightly longer periods. I now actively enjoy and choose to spend time with peers. I would rather be with them than alone when I am dealing with difficult thoughts and emotions, which is a new and unexpected experience for me (feeling inclined to be around others when struggling, not dealing with difficult things!!). Admittedly it is an unusual environment, where all the people have certain similarities in our brains, and I don't think it's unfair to say that the amount of care and understanding and support is unparalleled, at least in my experience.

But it shows me something new about myself that I never expected. I'm not a bad person, and I don't hate people. When the input is reduced down completely to below my threshold (And this was to zero, for an extended period. It's a funny experiment/opportunity that you'd never be able to run in real life, but retrospectively I'm so glad that it's come about!), I actually choose to be with people. I want company; I want to feel connected. It's just that I require so much processing time to stay regulated and avoid becoming overwhelmed by the anxiety and emotions that build up from being alive. My capacity for effective and beneficial social interaction is tiny. I need to stop before I feel like stopping in order to avoid delayed overload.

It makes me feel a little sad and hopeless, because I can never be as big a part of things as I want to be if I am going to live my life in a way that's manageable for me. I won't know people as well as I would like to. I won't be such an integral part of groups or such a support to friends and family as I would like, because I can't survive long term if I do all that I want to. I have to miss out, and people have to miss out on me. I feel like a broken human - one that doesn't work properly. Even being in touch through electronic means has a drastic impact on my coping levels. I don't know what this means for how I manage my life as I rebuild it.

But I'm still glad that I've had this opportunity (despite how it's come about - every cloud has a silver lining and all that) to see what happens when I take normal life away and start from zero. I'm grateful to have discovered truths about myself that I never would have found out by any other means. It allows me to be a little kinder to myself, and to know "me" a little better.

 

For the minute, I'll sit in my tree and try and be alone as much as I need to.

I won't wear make-up on Thursday: Body Intelligence gleaned from staying in bed!

OK, it's true I didn't wear make-up on any of the other Thursday either, but that is a reference for the Cool Kids who both wear make-up and listen to "actual music". Maybe I should have picked the more accurate line from the song "I will do nothing on Thursday: sit alone and be."

That is exactly what I have done. Well, I went and let the chickens out about lunch time to get rid of the anxiety that I hadn't done that or fed the guinea pigs. Brought the Piggle Peggies in for moral support and returned to the land of bed. At 3.30pm I even progressed from a prone, under-several-duvets state to seated with just one merely draped over myself.

I had done that thing that's meant to be sensible (although admittedly it may come slightly out of desperation too) where you communicate that you need something before utter disaster hits. The trouble I have discovered though, is that then if you get the thing Brian tells you in no uncertain terms that this is a catastrophe. You shouldn't have the thing: no-one else has the thing - why are you any more entitled to the thing than anyone else? Accommodating the thing has cost other people: you are an even worse person for needing, and taking, the thing. You didn't really need it anyway, you just quite fancied it - you could, and should, have managed without it; after all, nothing terrible happened to show that you needed the thing, so you must just be greedy and lazy. Now that you've had the thing, what if you actually need it in the future? You've already had it so you'll have to manage without next time. You can't carry on like this, "needing" things left, right and centre, you need to pull your socks up and get on with life like everyone else.

Contrary to appearances, I haven't just come here for a whinge about the Brian. In my nothing-ness and the approach to it I stumbled on a couple of observations.

The sensory may be more involved than I think.

A perfectly adequate set of resources for
the day

This is funny, because I've just started reading a book by Penny Greenland of JABADAO* about (well, partly about) how body intelligence (the is a whole chapter just introducing the concept of what this is) can be used in the mind together with intellectual intelligence to approach everyday issues and problems.

In the lead-up to realising I needed some space I first noticed my brain responses: getting irritable, decreased patience, increased behaviours and unhelpful thoughts. Then as things progressed over the next day or two and I became more stressed rather than less, on the final day I was much more aware of sensory responses. The piercing vehicle-reversing-beep I had to block from my ears, a scratchy label in my clothing, appreciation of darkness. The all-pervading discomfort caused by a foreign and distasteful (to me) scent on my fleece, that became so unbearable I had to give up my fleece. The proprioceptive/touch dysregulation of not wearing my fleece when I'm already stressed. The overheating of my body from the down bodywarmer I luckily had in my car that I fetched at lunch time to solve the proprioceptive problem.

To be very brief, something like this...

I don't know whether it's that the warning signs come in this order - the lower-level stress is signified by more cerebral warnings and the sensory warnings signify that things are escalating - or that my awareness works in this order: the more significant my stress levels, the more I function on a sensory level and the cognitive loses priority. I suppose processing capacity is decreased when under stress so this would make sense. Now that I think about it, there's a lot of theory that explains this, but you can go and Google that - I can't be bothered to talk about it now (but if you ask I'll go and find it!). Yesterday I also began exchanging words quite bizarrely. I explained to my fellow class Peggy that I was going to cut the Duplo lengthways to make it fit. I meant Velcro. Just picked the wrong word. I used the word purple instead of person to the same colleague about five minutes previous to this. My thoughts were jumbled and I wasn't properly paying attention to myself or anyone else.

I came across a quote in the JABADAO book today: "This woman's focus has changed so thoroughly from intellect to body that stringing words together has become difficult. She has swapped an intellectual way of being, for a body way" (page 33). I laughed aloud when I read it because it seemed so apt. The lady in question had made this transition intentionally, but I had perhaps begun to make it unconsciously, which is why the kind of work described in the book is so important. Becoming aware of and utilising this body intelligence can help integrate the systems and employ them in a helpful way.

As I was sitting alone and being today, I attempted to be mindfully aware of my frustration, my guilt, my fear and anxiety (two distinct states/thoughts for me) allowing them to be, while listening to what my body needed and permitting it to have that. It meant I stayed in bed for a really long time. It's now 4.30 and I'm still there in fact. I never stay in bed for that long. I sometimes have days where I stay a pretty long time, but eventually my body tells me it's time to do something else. I can feel the time approaching, but it hasn't come yet, and I'm trying to ignore my own judgmental feelings and my feelings about how it would appear to others and not rush my body into doing what it's not ready for.

As I knuckled down and did nothing I found some of the reasons why here was the right place today. They were mostly sensory. It's not that I'm in a dark place mentally and can't "summon the motivation" to get out of bed (don't get me started on people making those kinds of judgments). I am not psychologically bound to being here. Neither am I intensely physically exhausted and thus unable to get up, although I am tired. This time, my body has told me that this is the right place for it to get what it needs right now.

Not laziness. Important work to enable
future functioning. Down with shame.

What it needs is a lot of touch/proprioceptive input. When layered for weight, duvets and blankets give my body the perfect way to receive input to my body's entire touch receptor; its largest single organ, the skin. A friend once told me of a discovery that the more of her that was touching something, the more comfortable and relaxed she felt. I am exactly the same, and the only thing I have found that beats a good pile of duvets is swimming. When I move in water (not necessarily in a conventional "swimming" way, but in the way my body wants to), it moves past every cell of my skin. I find it exceptionally helpful and regulating, and now that I've written that, I've realised that was my first sensory clue to my dysregulation. I noticed the immediate calming effect of being in the hydro pool the day before the other sensory clues and commented on it at the time.

The other reason I needed to be in bed was to regulate via the olfactory sense. I would certainly never have intentionally sought this method of helping myself, but sometimes my body knows more than my brain (body intelligence...). Now I know that this will disgust some of you, but try and let go of your social conditioning for a minute and bear with me. Our own smells and those of our loved ones are some of the earliest developmental experiences for our olfactory sense, and thus easily processed and calming (credit Joanna Grace). I became aware part way through the day that I was frequently seeking this input, putting my fingers to my nose, and even smelling my own shoulders and arms (weird, I know!). When I leant over the other side of the bed I smelt Mr Peggy's smell, and after stroking the Piggy Peggies my left hand smelt of them. All of these were contributing to the gradual regulation of my body.

The final piece of body intelligence I gleaned also came from Hopping Home Backwards. There are little exercises throughout the chapters which aim to help the reader understand better by experiencing what is being discussed. All I could notice was that every time I tried one - they are all about listening to the body and what it wants - all mine wanted was stillness. It didn't lead me into any kind of movement unless there was a part of my body that wasn't touching something and then it asked to curl up smaller or snuggle into a bit of duvet. For me this was surprising. Mine is a body that likes to move. It needs to move. It needs to stretch a lot and it is useless at sitting still. But all it would do today was be still.

And I'm pretty sure it was right. I was right when I communicated that I needed some space. Whatever the Brian said afterwards, and it is shouting loudly as I write this, I did the right thing. And it was right to do the right thing. My brain can sometimes lie to me, but my body knows and tells me the truth. You've done enough. Sit alone and be.

*Hopping Home Backwards, Greenland 2000.

Sensory Self Care Saturdays

On Saturdays I roll out all the coping strategies.  Every Saturday is a self-care Saturday. They're not necessarily the same every week, but some of the current favourites (I won't list the negative ones...) are walks in the countryside, cuddles with the Piggy Peggies and painting by numbers. Today as you can tell by the blogging activity, writing has been one, as has seeing a friend.

I've written before about how sensory experiences can help with my wellbeing (here is a good place to start) and because one of the aspects about my autism that I get asked about most frequently is sensory needs, I thought I'd give a window on one of my coping tools of today.

I had a shower.

Sounds simple, but let me see if I can give you an idea of how I had a shower and what the shower did for me.

Before I had my shower I stayed in bed. Usually my self-care Saturday begins with a lie-in, followed by pilates - just the ticket (combined with Friday night yoga!) to getting back in line with myself. This was a hard week though, and Friday was difficult and included bathroom floor time for lunch, yippee. I have learnt that it is both survivable and at times beneficial to follow my body's hints that departure from routine would be wise. I cancelled pilates and stayed in bed. For ages. The weight of the duvet(s) gives wonderful proprioceptive feedback to the whole body and savouring the experience nourished me.

When I had finished duvet-ing I took the luxury of leaving my contact lenses out and showering with the light on.* I'm very short-sighted so this transforms my sensory experience: my eyes focus on the water cascading immediately before them, glistening in the light - sparklewater! (see also. sun on the sea or a river...)

I had no time limit on my shower; no deadline for leaving the house, no stressful event to prepare for later. I closed my eyes and tipped my head back, focusing on the sensation as the water woke my scalp and face. Nice and warm - bed temperature eases the transition on the body... calm. Tappy tappy touch dancing on my skin.

I have my phone set to play "My Mix" on YouTube - no stress of deciding what playlist I want to listen to, no decision making, but music that I like because it's made from my playlists.

I turn around to join the sparklewater again and become absorbed in the way the shadows of the water drops play on the white bathtub if I shake my hands and move my fingers.

Eventually I move on to wash my hair and myself, with familiar scents and an unchanging routine. When I start to overheat I know I've been there long enough and I share a last few moments with the sparklewater before I say goodbye. My shower has a five-second delay on its "stop" button - this Godsend makes the transition more bearable. And I know I can come again soon. I am so very grateful that I am privileged enough to be able to access this form of self care: physically, culturally, financially.

Photos just don't compare.
Go and try it for yourself if you can.

*It's funny, because it's there every day, the sparklewater, but it's a special treat to see it. My contacts give me so much (I cannot focus beyond about 20cm without them and I have much better vision than with glasses, not to mention they are so much simpler, especially in my job!) but in entering the world of the distance-seers I lose the beauty of the morning sparklewater. On weekdays I also shower with the light off because dimmer light is more calming for me and our bathroom fan makes an unholy racket too, and I need to retain all the calmness I can on schooldays!

"You did it"

So I did it. I completed half a term with no major work crises, no going home, no sick days. Cue congratulations and jubilation. "You're doing so well", "I'm so proud of you!"

The trouble with outwardly succeeding... functioning... completing something... is that it seems to blind others to the cost of the achievement. Once there is a visible outcome all people can see is this "winning against all the odds" . They want to buoy you up with the positivity, the "...but you did it!"s, the "well done"s and pass you on as inspiration for others who are struggling.

Positivity and celebration are valuable and important in general life, in recovery and in maintaining wellbeing, but the response above misses something vital. What was the cost of the success? Losing months worth of ground in recovery behaviour. Responding to children in unconstructive ways (what are all the potential knock-on effects of this?). Losing months worth of ground in the brain. Being absent from my home life and Mr Peggy who deserves so much more. Tipping the balance of believing in recovery back the other way. Reinforcing the belief of self and others that pushing through works. (When you use my achievement as "encouragement" for someone else struggling it may well do the opposite: make them feel useless and hopeless because they see no way to such achievements, invalidated and alone because you do not accept their current state, and worthless because the implication is that people are worth more when they achieve.)

IT DOESN'T. It is not worth it. I don't want to have to fight the recovery fight again now: I only just fought it.

Yes, I "did it" - I turned up every day and did my job more or less, but what have we really achieved? Reinforcement of every negative coping strategy that makes it even harder to crawl out of the hole that I tried so hard not to fall down again. So please don't congratulate me. Don't assume because it happened that I'm fine and better. Ask me how a long difficult term affected me. Tell me you're there no matter how many times I fall. Stay with me when I can't get up right now. Remind me that it doesn't have to be square one and that it's never too late or too early for change.

If you really want to support me ask instead of assuming, regardless of the outward appearance. But only if you're OK with whatever the answer is. When I tell you I'm sinking grab my hand just so I know you're there, and don't let go.

"I can see xxx is happening. Can you tell me about it?"
"X has happened that I thought would be difficult for you. How did it affect you?"
"I noticed xxx. What can I do to help?"

Then even if I don't have an answer at the time, or say I'm fine, follow up in a few days when I've had time to process. Even do this two or three times: it may well take that much for me to know you really mean it and for me to think it out and to feel safe enough to let you in.

It might look like winning, but I'm living the only way I know how to: winning might not always be the best. Everybody needs a helping hand and that's OK.

10 Deep Breaths for 10 Days

Day 1 (Monday): I follow Hania Therapies on Facebook as I visit Amy Manancourt for massage and yoga therapy. As I checked my page at lunch time Amy was presenting a challenge to her followers: take 10 deep breaths for yourself each day for ten days and see what happens. It seemed do-able and potentially interesting, so I thought I'd give it a go. I tend to think I'm pretty good now at listening to myself and allowing myself time because I have had to learn to do this in order to keep functioning. So I thought it would be interesting to see whether a little practice like this would change anything much or not. I took my 10 breaths when I usually have a mindful moment at the end of my lunch break and they encouraged me to linger just a little longer appreciating the stillness and my surroundings (though not much longer or I'd be late!).

Day 2 (Tuesday): As I took my 10 deep breaths on Tuesday I was reminded of when I first visited Amy for treatment a year ago. At the end of each yoga posture she would have me take three deep breaths in with a sighing breath out. Although I never mentioned it, I really struggled with this - hearing my own breath was incredibly uncomfortable. It felt painfully vulnerable, as though my most intimate self were laid bare (eye contact can also feel like this). Luckily I trust her a lot! I felt exposed and most definitely not invisible (A desire to be invisible can drive a lot of behaviour in my life. Currently reading a fascinating book on 'Exposure Anxiety' and autism - future blog post in several months when I've finished it...); troubled by my own existence and taking up of space and air. I also had difficulty in those days when yoga required stretching arms out when lying down. I think I felt unprotected, exposed and vulnerable again, and had to work very hard mentally to physically open up form my 'safe' closed posture.

I still experience these difficulties now when I am having a tricky day with Brian, and I have noticed that as soon as the difficult thoughts and feelings are present in my body it begins almost to shrink: to curl in on itself, becoming tense and making itself as small and invisible as possible. My 10 deep breaths helped me realise how far I have come from that first meeting a year ago though: I now notice this feeling in myself because it is not present all the time.

Day 3 (Wednesday):  On Wednesday it was very difficult to allow myself my 10 breaths. I think I got to about three. The day was challenging, the Brian was loud, and I didn't feel like I should be using the air I was breathing. I would be a better person, or have more respect for myself if I could do without that air. This sounds as though I have a terrible opinion of myself and non-existent self-worth, which isn't actually the case, so maybe it's not the best way to express how I sometimes feel, but I can't quite find any words that come closer. Perhaps it's more that fact that concentrating on the breath reminds me that I exist. I am here in this world, taking up space and oxygen. If I breathe, there is undeniably a "me". And on difficult days I find this a troubling concept to swallow. I'd like to be able to choose my visibility or invisibility. [edit: just read a quote from Exposure Anxiety - The Invisible Cage by Donna Williams: "so someone can actually trigger their own Exposure Anxiety simply because they become such an intense audience to themselves." Interesting.]

Day 4 (Thursday): On Thursday I still struggled, but managed to take my 10 deep breaths. Amy suggested on Thursday that we consider what we are grateful for when we find that moment where we give ourselves permission to slow down, listen and simply breathe. I was (and am!) grateful for birdsong, for sunshine and for hope.

Day 5 (Friday): I can't actually remember my 10 breaths on Friday. I thought when I started that I should make notes as I went along, but somehow didn't. I'm working on accepting this imperfection and going with what is. I usually take my 10 deep breaths time lying on my bench on the moor at lunch time, and the day was going OK at that point so I think it was fairly uneventful. The day later became stressful and I used some less constructive coping methods accidentally. I learn from this that I can never become complacent about how I am coping and that I must continue thoughtfully and intentionally looking after myself. I also continue practising acceptance of the me that is right now, with all of its different facets.

Day 6 (Saturday): I didn't get round to doing my 10 deep breaths. It was a busy day, and full of fun and excitement but also brought anxiety and some triggers taking me back to a time in the past where I was very much in the grips of my mental health disorder (particularly in the light of Friday). I stayed on the straight and narrow but my brain was busy! I could have made time for my breaths but each time I had an opportunity I forgot. Which is an insight in itself, really. However, I'm not going to berate myself, feel guilty or let the incompleteness or imperfection of my 10 days spoil things; rather, I notice, accept, and observe what this says about where I am right now.

Day 7 (Sunday): My normal routine has been rather out of the window this week because of Saturday's activities and preparations for the through the week. I always find it a bit difficult to balance weekends when I don't have a normal Saturday and today arrived with the relief of knowing my routine will be back to normal this week tempered by anxiety that I could not quite pin to any specific source. It threatened to overtake me as I searched for the balance between doing and not doing, preparing for the week (physically and mentally) and allowing myself to be however I needed to be. I couldn't settle to anything or find peace. I was pestered by thoughts of negative coping strategies and overwhelmed by all the things I needed to accomplish (including relaxing!).

I had set YouTube to "My Mix" (to create a playlist from music on my playlists or similar) as I wanted to listen to something but couldn't decide what. After a short while I was stopped in my tracks by a piece of music that brings an instant change in my internal state. It was the first piece of music playing when I walked into the JABADAO! training over a year ago, which was a day that changed my life (for more on this and also on Amy Manancourt see this previous post) . That piece has a lot of power for me and it reminded me instantly of my 10 deep breaths. I put down what I was doing, laid on the floor and took my 10 breaths. The breaths led me to my mat and half an hour of yin yoga. I won't claim it solved everything, but I was then able to go and eat something and from there to do a few jobs and then sit down and snuggle with my guinea pigs for a long and settled chill out. The anxiety didn't leave me completely: I'm still sitting with it now, but I got through the day without engaging in too many negatives, managing a few small achievements and having time to hopefully mean I can face the week ahead. I'm trying to be kind to myself about the things I might not get done, or the timescale I might be working to.

Day 8 (Monday): Well I somehow completed the day without disgracing myself in any dramatic way. I used coping strategies that probably aren't helpful in the long run, but they work to get me through what needs to be done. I don't have any other option right now. Despite not being able to allow myself some other things, I did defy the Brian enough to have my 10 deep breaths. Although I experienced a definite resistance to letting go at all, the breaths did help to relax my body and mind a little, for which I was grateful in the context of the day: a moment of slight relief is maybe all I would have been able to accept. On days like that, an attempt to grant myself anything is likely to be rejected as unacceptable because it is too much, too overpowering. Just a little at a time, so as to fool the Brian into not noticing.

Day 9 (Tuesday): Today was similar. I threw out my last lifeline early in the morning, which was caught by a couple of wonderful work Peggies perfectly undramatically and just about got me through a day which was even more challenging than expected. My thought while taking my 10 breaths was to consider carrying the practice throughout the days. I breathe very slowly so ten at a time takes quite a while, but I thought it could help when things are difficult to remember I might be able to stop and take just one deep breath, or even not to stop, but at least to take that breath for myself in the midst of whatever is happening, giving myself space to refocus. Of course I was then too busy the rest of the day to employ this and it only came to mind again once I reached my bed at night!

Day 10 (Wednesday): Reading back yesterday's writing is amusing as I recognise that taking deep breaths is hardly a new idea for somebody that has lived with anxiety for a while! It's the prescribed-to-all first line of defence and doesn't generally cut the mustard for me. But having committed to this practice for these ten days has perhaps brought back its value to me, and allowed me to find what a relaxing deep breath is for me, rather than one that is full of stress. It still isn't going to solve everything for me, but there are times when it could be the ingredient in my coping concoction that just gets me through a particular moment. And of course I know very well that taking a proper time out purely to ground/focus/meditate/yoga/pray/whichever precise emphasis or name you choose to take at a given moment does proportionally more to bring (or perhaps is even exponentially proportionate to) a physical and mental change of state. Can I restructure my days to facilitate more of this??

So I haven't had a perfectly-formed beautiful journey of discovery to share with you from my 10 Deep Breaths for 10 Days, but that is not what it was about - that is just what my perfectionist Brian would like to turn it into. Instead you have an imperfect but real record of my explorations and thoughts, ups and downs. I'm not even going to say successes and failures - just a story of what is. Down with judgment is what I say!