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

Stimmy

I'm pretty sure when I went for a gallop after a heavy therapy session this afternoon that I raised some eyebrows. 

Sometimes I have to choose between blending in and staying regulated.* I could have chosen to remain inconspicuous and probably felt stressed and dysregulated all evening, maybe with a few meltdowns in the next day or two, and some struggles to use the right coping strategies. Instead I opted for a five minute galloped perimeter of the car park. I happened upon some beautiful crocuses and exclaimed "CROCUSES!" in a loud voice (nobody was very close!). I enjoyed that so I repeated it a few times. Stopped to take some pictures of the crocuses, resumed my gallop and tiptoed along the kerb back to my car. Tiptoes are great when I'm riding high; it's like it focuses all the sensation into a small but intensive area. I also like to spread my arms as though for balancing. They join in on the gallop too. And a few jumps interspersed for good measure.

Stimming is fun but stimming is also seriously important. 

I think stimming is one of the autistic traits most misunderstood. The word is misunderstood, the actions are misunderstood and the reasons for and importance of stimming are misunderstood. 

Let's start with the word. Basically, it's what it says on the metaphorical tin: a shortening for self-stimulatory behaviour, ie repetitive actions that give sensory feedback for the person using them.  Everybody stims: maybe you're a pen-clicker or a foot-wagger or a hair-twizzler. Stims tend to happen when people are tired or anxious or bored. They regulate our stress/arousal levels.

I don't know if it's just locally or just in childcare but I have frequently heard the term stimming used as a synonym for actions that would be sexual in adults. Of course, these can be a form of stimming, but in some places this seems to be the only meaning of the word, which becomes confusing and unhelpful when trying to talk about stimming in general. Just an aside, but it's a bit of a bugbear of mine because it can be so misleading!

Autistic people often stim more frequently, for longer, and more obviously than others. Maybe because living in a world designed for people who aren't autistic means stress levels are constantly raised. Or because sensory processing is different (the same sound/taste/smell/touch/motion/other sensation registers more strongly or weakly, perhaps with an emotional response as well). Or because the person is less aware of or less concerned with what others think. Or because they are more likely to pay attention to what their body wants (or their body is more likely to demand it!). Probably a thousand reasons.

According to the NAS (National Autistic Society) website, "stimming or self-stimulatory behaviour includes arm or hand-flapping, finger-flicking, rocking, jumping, spinning or twirling, head-banging and complex body movements. It includes the repetitive use of an object, such as flicking a rubber band or twirling a piece of string, or repetitive activities involving the senses (such as repeatedly feeling a particular texture)." 

I have little stims like rubbing my top lip with my thumbnail or pressing my thumb together with each finger in turn, medium ones like spinning my Tangle, or pulling my eyebrows, and big ones like galloping. Some I only use in certain contexts and some I only need in certain contexts. Some are for when I'm calm or contemplative, some are for when I'm wound up, and some pop up in a variety of situations.

I touched on the reasons for stimming above, but they are of course infinite. Major ones include enjoyment, to gain sensory input, to reduce sensory input and to calm and soothe stress eg from unpredictability/change/sensory overload/emotional overload. There is always a reason for stimming: even if the stim is harmful in itself (eg. hand banging or excessive skin picking) it is serving an important purpose. If the stim is not harmful there is no reason to stop it just because it is deemed "strange". If it is harmful or the person wants to stop it in order to mask (masking is risky but is chosen by many people in some circumstances, or happens unwittingly), it is vital to find another way to serve the need it was fulfilling.

When people come across someone stimming in an "unusual" way - perhaps rocking, squeaking, spinning or hand flapping - many emotions may arise. Fear of the unknown, confusion, worry about whether the person is safe or what they may do next, or even simply surprise. The more we talk about it, the more I hope that the natural response will become surprise, or perhaps even happiness that people feel comfortable enough to stim freely in our presence.

I looked odd for sure. But I was regulated after that. Five minutes of weirdo for a chilled out evening, I'll take that.

*There are increasingly spaces where this choice is less necessary, and by writing this kind of thing I hope more places become like that. As I decrease my masking I am tending to find that although I may not be inconspicuous, in some places I am still accepted and respected even when I stim. In autistic online spaces stimming is celebrated and when new "stimmy" finds are discovered they are shared to help other people. Yay to this kind of thing!

Reclaiming Autumn

Over the years I have often written about how being outside and spending time with nature helps my mental health, reduces my stress levels and keeps me better regulated. Closely observing the changes and small wonders of autumn, winter and spring has got me through some of the most difficult times I have had.

The only trouble is, because the things I was experiencing were so intense and the solace I found outside so important, the two became thoroughly entangled. Last year autumn no longer helped me but brought memories and emotions back that were overwhelming and distressing. I avoided spending optional time out and about this spring for the same reason. I am still only posting pictures from this year even though I have more beautiful ones from before. 

As summer once again turns to autumn my mind is spending a lot of time in the past, as I've come to expect. But I think that this time the emotions are a bit less overwhelming, and although the thoughts still intrude when I may not want them I am more able to think about things rather than just feeling overwhelmed and wanting to get away. 

Sure, it's still causing problems, but I decided to take little steps to reclaiming autumn. Change comes along naturally when there's a baby in the family so it seemed a good opportunity to jump on the bandwagon and try to get back some of the benefits I lost when my source of respite got tied up with the thing I needed respite from. The longer I left it the harder it would get.

So last week I took Baby Peggy for a walk to collect some autumn for him to play with. Doing things with a purpose and for his benefit helps to motivate me and to help me focus on now rather than then. There were and are memories and emotions and thoughts drawing me to the past, but there is also joy in what is happening now, and positive anticipation for his future and autumns to come, rather than just my brain's story about what autumn should be.

Switched up the
toys on his play mat

I jazzed up his
mobile with leav

Bringing some autumn into the house where I can't avoid it helps to disentangle the associations and make new connections. I can't delete things from the story and it probably wouldn't be wise to, but I can add to it and make some choices about how the new and old plot lines interact. 

Raw and Real

A baby is unfiltered, unrestrained and unapologetic. It is entirely authentic and neither hides nor tones down its emotions or needs. Its enthusiasm is unbridled, its sadness wholly embodied and its affection genuine and unmistakeable.

Baby Peggy does not stop to think about how his feelings or requirements might affect me and Mr Peggy and he is not worried about offending anybody or putting them out. He doesn't rein in his displays of emotion in concern that he's being annoying nor because he fears being overwhelmed by them: he simply is. When he is cross he is cross all over and when he is content he is blissfully relaxed. His smile and attempts at giggling are infectious when he is altogether engrossed in playing with Daddy. 

And do you know what? Yes, there are moments when I just want to be asleep or when I (strongly!) begrudge having to get off my backside to change yet another stinky hind quarter. When I literally want to bang my head on a wall because it's all too much. But I marvel every day at the beauty of this boy and his wholeheartedness.

There's no extra layer, no ulterior motive, no people pleasing or game playing. A baby is straightforward and unapologetic. You may take him or leave him, but what you see is what you get, and the things that you get are infinitely richer for their authenticity and un-self-conscious-ness (definitely a word).

It is refreshing and renewing to be with a person who is so generous and unconcerned in sharing of themselves.

I aspire to be more like my baby and I am infinitely grateful to have the honour of being with him and learning from him.

I think what he is missing is shame. The fear of rejection is what brings the feeling of shame, and how powerful that is. How sad that our longing for acceptance so often hinders us from fully embodying our broad range of states of being. May it be a long time until he experiences the rejection that hardens our shells.

He is also missing the fear of becoming overwhelmed by his emotions. Perhaps this is a less universal experience for adults than the feeling of shame, but it's no less important. At the moment Baby Peggy relies almost wholly on mutual regulation. Mr Peggy and I comfort him when he is sad, hurt or scared and he knows he is safe with us. He stops crying when we pick him up (well... not every time!) because he is secure in the knowledge that he is OK now. Hopefully he will learn that it's OK to fully experience his emotions and that they can be attended to and soothed in whatever way is applicable and that he will be OK afterwards. That way he will feel things at the time, deal with them and move on, just as he does now - no trying to squash them in case they get too big when all that does is means they come back later. 

Because Baby Peggy is so true and uncomplicated, I know how he is feeling and when he has a need, and I can meet that need. He depends on me and that's fine. He is not meant to exist in isolation or be self-sufficient. As he grows there will be more and more things that he manages independently, but perhaps we make a mistake when we try to live as though this is a phase that we completely outgrow as we age. Little steps can help to start to turn this view around, like saying "thank you for helping" instead of "sorry for being a pain."

Thanks little one, for showing me how rich and beautiful an authentic, vulnerable, dependent life can be.

Many Neurodivergent Returns of the Day!

I'm a bit cross about my birthday this year. I feel it has misfallen rather, at the end of a week where I've somewhat overdone it socially, and am dealing with some fairly hefty hammers to my mental health.

I often feel that there is a great expectation to enjoy one's birthday: a pressure to celebrate and be happy (hence "many happy returns!") and have a Special Day. I feel like if I don't have a lovely day I will be disappointing people, because they have expressed their wishes and hopes that I will have fun, or have a wonderful day etc, and I have not demonstrated this to be the case. I know this isn't what they intend - they are kindly expressing their hope that the day treats me well, and I do the same to others because I hope their birthday does treat them well. But somehow it makes me feel sad or guilty if I can't fulfil those wishes!

The points I want to make are twofold, I think.

One: "happiness" isn't everything, and neither can it be manufactured or conjured up on a whim. 

Please don't start CBT-ing me here or telling me how to create my own happiness. I know we can do things to shift our emotions but that isn't my point right now! What I'm trying to say is that why should emotions be in a heirarchy with happiness at the top? Are "good" emotions somehow more valuable than "bad" ones? Am I a better person if I'm always happy? 

Admittedly it is more pleasant to feel positive emotions, and for most people it is easier to be around somebody happy than somebody sad or angry (perhaps hence the general pressure to be happy, because then the other person doesn't feel obliged to feel bad that you're feeling bad/try and help you/invest time in being with you in your sadness where it is less pleasant). 

But that doesn't actually mean that it is objectively better to be happy all the time or at a specific time. I generally end up feeling better, calmer and more at peace if I acknowledge whichever emotion I happen to be feeling at a time and honour whatever message it is bringing me. I often experience problems if I ignore my emotions or mask them or pretend that I'm feeling something I'm not.

Two: happiness looks different and is brought by different things for everybody, especially neurodivergent people.

Here's a sky to gaze at from yesterday

Today I will likely not be displaying any heightened emotion. Firstly, autistic people tend to display their emotions differently from non-autistic people, but also I generally feel at my best when I am not experiencing any heightened level of emotion, positive or negative. Many people enjoy extreme happiness or excitement, but these create disturbance in my physical and neurological systems which is unsettling and "stressful" in a body-brain way rather than a cognitive way (if I am very happy or excited they are good things but still create strain on my systems and require recovery, rather than replenishing me). So top of my emotional heirarchy would probably be "calm" or "peaceful" or "content."

When I am feeling at my absolute best, it is not astounding to see, nor necessarily apparent to others, but I am enjoying a state of non-happening, non-stress, just being how I am in that moment. This is why I like time to enjoy something that brings me happiness: I gaze at the birthday candles until they have nearly burnt away, drinking in the moment of glow and stillness, or I linger by the glorious sunset or majestic waves for longer than typical, bathing in every sensory aspect of the calm and awe it inspires. Stillness and calmness are when I feel at my true "happiest."

Visiting my Geordie Peggy
and tea at THE BEST Thai
Restaurant. And yes, we're
both autistic so we always
have the same thing! A
wonderful day, but exhasuting.

Today I stayed at home and watched my church service on YouTube. I have done too much people this week and it has been getting more and more imperative by the hour that I do something to sort this out. The peopling I have done has been so enjoyable, but I went overboard (being sociable on two consecutive days), being out of practice at scheduling because of lockdown! My brain is also trying to deal with some nasty stuff mental health-wise and that takes huge chunks out of my coping resources and notches my mood down and "negative" emotions up.

So today I was church at home, and that was just right. We managed to move this afternoon's appointment to yesterday. Basically I have managed to cancel nearly everything I would have been doing today. Mr Peggy's work day got extended slightly. I am wearing joggers and fuzzy socks. I came downstairs to balloons and pressies but no people. I have been alone for five hours and will be for two more. I have finished my jigsaw puzzle and now I'm writing a blog post. Next I will clean out the guinea pigs because hopefully then it will be Sunday (not going to church has made a confusing rift in my routine!). 

This would be a disaster of a birthday for many people, but for me it has worked out perfectly. Last night I was frustrated and upset that I was feeling so completely rubbish and that it was going to be my birthday just at that time so I wouldn't enjoy it properly. But now, I am decompressing. I am feeling better. I am looking forward to Mr Peggy coming home and to spending the evening with him, opening my presents and cards and quietly watching some unemotional TV. I have had a morning of stillness and I am several notches calmer than I was: the space I made for myself means that in spite of the week behind me, I am enjoying my birthday. It might not be the birthday you would want and it might not look how you expect a birthday to look, but my happy is not made the same way as your happy; my stress is not made the same way as your stress, and my most enjoyable day is not made the same way as yours. 

So no need to feel sad for me or judge the way I choose to spend my special day (generally, I prefer same to special, or my special in small doses amongst plenty of same!) - this is the one day of the year that I can jolly well do what I like, and this is what I liked today!

Birthday Bunting Banner 😍

Still Remembering

I need to write something, but I don't know what.

I feel funny at the moment. I think I feel sad. As well as overwhelmed and excited and discombobulated by all the change in life right now, of course.

I have spoken before about memories and how reminders of situations and events from the last couple of years can cause me difficulty. While I was in hospital and for about the first six months afterwards these memories would often come suddenly and bring incredibly intense emotions that I found difficult to cope with and that lingered with me throughout the day. 

Over the last six months I have felt they have relented a little in their frequency and intensity. I am less often triggered beyond my ability to concentrate on the present moment. The intense effects of a memory last less long. I can talk about some things that I couldn't talk about before without becoming completely overwhelmed. 

And yet. 

They haunt me still. The barely-staved-off panic attacks when I have to go to the general hospital. The lingering emotion all day reminding me of the dream I had last night. It's an emotion I still can't place a year on, and the dream hangover ignites further thoughts and memories to make it worse. The same emotion hits me like a wall when things are too similar to previous days, trapping me in my house because I'm too scared of the feelings I'll have if I go outside in the spring sunshine. The colder dull weather this week has been a relief. My camera reel was full of spring photos and blooming life last year but this year there are three. 

The tears I push away and avoid spring up on me less often, but they are all the more vicious because I've hidden from them.

It doesn't go away, and it doesn't become less confusing. There are times when the triggers are further apart, or avoidable or I can box things up and squash them away while I do what I need to do. But this stuff seems to be with me to stay and I don't even know what it is. I think if I'm going to have any luck in managing it I need to understand it, and I need some help with that because I clearly haven't got far on my own in a year! I need someone to help me unpack the boxes, look at the confusing things and work out what to do with them. And maybe I'm ready for that now, which I wasn't a year ago.

Why am I a body-listener?

In my previous post I found myself playing the piano. It made me reflect on how thankful I am for the skills that I have been taught throughout my life that bring themselves into play to try and help me. Playing music, listening to music, letting my body move in the ways it wants and needs to, seeking out dark and quiet space alone. Most of these skills were taught to me in a different context from how they help me at the moment, but they repay my investment (and that of those who teach/taught me or enabled my learning in different ways) in them over and over. I'm enormously grateful for my ability to listen in to what it is that might help in any moment - in fact it more often happens quite subconsciously that I find a compulsion towards an activity which will help to regulate me.

I began to consider this inner awareness and its origins. Is it innate in me or have I learnt it? Currently reading about Developmental Movement Play (and recently listening to a podcast sent me by a dear friend) I am reminded that that our culture as a whole tends to be painfully disembodied, with the exception of a few disciplines that have a clear focus on inhabiting the body such as yoga. Why am I less so? Is it because I have always been active? Perhaps yes, and perhaps no. The activities I took part in as a child, teenager and young adult demanded mastery of the body. This involves high-definition awareness of what the body is doing but leaves little space for asking it what it would like to be doing. 

Is it because I have spent time practising yoga and tai chi? Perhaps this has helped, but I have a feeling I did not quite grasp this aspect of yoga until after I had discovered developmental movement play. Was that the magic moment? It was magical in many ways, but the approach of JABADAO (search my blog for more posts about JABADAO) and body-listening, body-communication etc seemed to come quite naturally to me. It was as if I had found what I was made for, how to really be. I noted that it wasn't like this for everybody.

So that stuff was and is instrumental in bringing the whole concept to my thinking brain (as opposed to my body-brain wherein it had been confined previously) and helping me to utilise and develop the skills to be consciously aware of what my body and brain need - to stop and ask them, and to follow their suggestions, but I don't think it can take all the credit. I think what it did was to begin to free what was hidden in there all along, squashed somewhat by trying to fit in to our society, but not squashed as much as most people! Because my brain is more focused on the sensory world than some brains, I find it easier to access these things, or harder to ignore them. So sometimes I love autism!

The body speaks if we care to listen

I'm super dysregulated today. 

My first clue was that I was standing on my tiptoes waiting for my tai chi class to start. I actually thought I was feeling a little calmer this morning because our shower has been fixed so my morning routine is finally back to normal (see the executive function post to imagine the difficulties with figuring out how to wash yourself and start your day when your routine is not available!). But when Instructor Peggy (he's definitely part of my network of supportive Peggies!) joked about how tall I was I began to pay attention to my body and discover unease there, outed by my body's attempts to regulate itself. I noted that even though attention had been drawn to me, my feet really wanted to stay with the extra pressure of being on tiptoe. I was anxious. 

Later in the day my body has led me to playing the piano, reading, painting, and rolling on the floor. I've noticed it hasn't wanted to do any of them for very long, whereas often it will stay with one occupation all morning or afternoon. It's feeling unsettled, which makes a lot of sense given the amount of changes and unpredictability and stressful situations coming up in the next week. Each activity has helped a little in the moment, but I don't settle to anything. Now it has sent me blogging, instructing me to delay the supermarket trip (it felt a supermarket meltdown coming on - I wonder whether it will after I've done this). It's trying to help me out - sometimes my body knows better than my brain. 

Yesterday it popped me in the nook for most of the day which was quite appropriate but clearly today is different. The anxiety is mounting and so the body is looking for the best way to stay regulated. Let's see what it brings me to over the next few days!

I didn't have a supermarket meltdown. I took my time, used my familiar soundtrack and navigated the shop without drama. I have enough experience by now to know that my body usually guides me soundly. Now maybe I should listen to its guidance on emotions too... I reject them but then they just escape or leak out uninvited - tears in that restorative yoga pose, dreams about having meltdowns, they're all messages telling me something needs attention.

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...).

Do I have to be sad? Why?

The functions of emotions are to motivate behaviour, to communicate to others, and to communicate to oneself. This short clip explains beautifully. It will use no more than 150 seconds of your life but could open a whole world of understanding to you (sorry, I really love DBT!!).

As you'll know from my previous post, I've been visited a lot by sadness recently. Now, instinctively I really hate sadness. My goodness, it hurts so much. Loss, endings, emptiness, aloneness - they're not pleasant to feel. But I've been on this therapy train for long enough now to pay attention. My life experience tells me that if I ignore an emotion is only going to spring up on me and shout its message louder until I deal with it. It might bog off for a bit, but it will come to get me, and it won't be pretty. And by then I probably won't even know why I have it so it will be so much more difficult to resolve.

I've made a treasure basket (bowl) of
sensory objects that are meaningful to me

So the sadness is shouting pretty loudly right now, and I've made a conscious effort to allow it to be there, talk about it, and to bear it in a healthy way (self soothe, distract, mindfulness - the three pillars of emotional regulation oh how I love DBT ha ha! Useful recently have been working on my sensory cave project, being outside in the countryside, listening to music, starting some gardening projects, talking to friends/family/professionals, listening to meditations, time in my sensory cave and being honest about how I feel even if I'm worried about the effect it will have on others).

The next step, as I like to get my old Brian engaged in things too, is to really explore sadness a bit more. What is it for? What is it telling me? How can I act helpfully towards it to ease my suffering or bear my pain (suffering being an unnecessary addition to pain - there's a whole other can of worms discussion!)?

First port of call is my emotional regulation handouts (from Marsha Linehan's DBT Skills Training Handouts and Worksheets, 2015). Amongst others, sadness is prompted by losing something or someone irretrievably, being separated from someone you care for, being alone, or feeling isolated or like an outsider, things being worse than you expected, things not being what you expected or wanted. Well, my sadness is pretty understandable and accurate then. (As an aside, biological changes and experiences are also included on each emotion sheet, which can be really helpful if you're not sure what emotion you're feeling.) No need to act opposite!

I'm interested to look at the listed expressions and actions of sadness then, to see whether I've been using any of them. Do they come naturally to me, or perhaps not, because I have tended to avoid sadness where possible? Maybe if I don't use them naturally they could help me process the sadness.

• avoiding things
• acting helpless, staying in bed, being inactive
• moping, brooding, or acting moody
• making slow, shuffling movements
• withdrawing from social contact
• avoiding activities that used to bring pleasure
• giving up and no longer trying to improve
• saying sad things
• talking little or not at all
• using a quiet, slow or monotonous voice
• eyes drooping
• frowning, not smiling
• posture slumping
• sobbing, crying, whimpering
• other _______

Looking at the list, some seem helpful and others less so. Perhaps more markers than suggestions, or ways to understand our behaviour compassionately before inviting sadness with us as we continue life. I think the list demonstrates how we can get stuck in a spiral of deepening sadness too, as several of those actions will feed back sadness to the brain and increase the intensity of the feeling.

Just hope you're not such a snotty crier as me!

Some, like crying, are definitely good to try though: no matter how much it feels like you'll never stop once you start, I can assure you it's not true! I have found if I can let myself cry (proper crying, not the leaky face type that comes upon me uninvited!) it really helps to be able to carry on life. It's an acknowledgment. Yes, I am sad. I have a gap in my life and it hurts. That's OK and I'm going to gently carry on with what I want to be doing in life. (Love to throw in a bit of Compassionate Mind too...)

Lastly, the sheet looks at aftereffects of sadness, which could include not being able to remember things, feeling irritable, touchy or grouchy, blaming or criticising yourself, ruminating about sad events in the past, insomnia, appetite disturbance, indigestion and others. Ties in nicely to the post I'm planning on executive function, and hopefully allows us to be a little compassionate to ourselves, understanding why we may have some seemingly unrelated difficulties, and continuing to care for ourselves in a constructive way.


As a final note, another great look at sadness I found is here (What is Sadness?). It takes you through a similar process but points out a few different things such as some people's tendency to avoid sadness (See also this 80 second clip on avoiding sadness. It references Borderline Personality Disorder but is relevant to most people.) and how we may want to respond to others' sadness. I particularly like this quote on the function of sadness:

The universal function of sadness is to, in some way, signal for help. This can be a signal to others saying that we need comforting, or to ourselves to take some time and recoup from our loss.

That is the message I'm going to take away from this curious little exploration of my sadness. I have a human need for comfort, and it is entirely right to experience that need and tend to it in a healthy way. As my psychiatrist told me all the time, sadness is there to show that you care.