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!

Proud

There are many things I'm not proud of about myself; I'm great at feeling shame both in its place and when it's not appropriate. That does not exclude acknowledging the bits I'm happy about, though it's only sometimes I can do that.

Proud is something I don't want to be (connotations of boastfulness, egocentricity and rudeness?), and perhaps what I really mean is that I'm pleased about these things, and glad and grateful that they are so. But I think that proud is the word that is often used to convey those sentiments, and it acknowledges the work that I put in to make these things happen, so I'm going to stick with it for now. 

I am proud of myself for often asking for help when I need it.

I am proud of myself for managing many situations on my own (not because I feel that I must or should cope alone, but because in many situations I can).

I am proud of myself for learning the difference between those.

I am proud of myself for not obeying my head every time it tells me lies.

I am proud of myself for letting others help from mundane everyday things like "Mr Peggy please can you get me x from the supermarket on your way home" to calling or emailing for help when I can't fight my brain on my own.

I am proud of myself for letting my body grow a human.

I am proud of myself for starting to believe that it's OK to live softly, to allow more than the bare minimum I "should" have, and to live a life I enjoy.

I am proud of myself for talking about difficult things.

I am proud of myself for (mostly) looking after Baby Peggy well.

I am proud of myself for starting to vocalise my needs and wishes.

I am proud of myself for trying new things.

I am proud of myself for letting old things go.

I am proud of myself for keeping on keeping on with the things that serve me well.

I am proud of myself for learning from my experiences.

I am proud of myself for taking on challenges (ones that I want and are achievable).

I am proud of myself for making progress, even though my brain often tells me it's the wrong direction or that I shouldn't want most of these things.

I'm proud of myself for
resurrecting traditions I used
to enjoy

I'm proud of myself for using
coping skills

I am proud of myself for allowing myself to be proud. Meta.

Happy

I am happier than I have ever been.

Please don't misunderstand me. I am frequently exhausted, often irritable or grumpy, regularly overwhelmed and plenty of times just going through the motions. Our life is most definitely not Instagram-perfect even though I post some lovely stuff on social media (I don't even have Instagram - or TikTok or WhatsApp or whatever it is that the kool kidz have these days. I was firmly Generation Facebook and there I remain despite its problems, because one kind of social media is enough for me, that's what I'm used to and that's where my friends are. But anyway, I digress.).

But the fact remains that I am happier than ever. I feel as though I understand what "happy" is now. The deep joy that floods me so many times a day is inexpressible. I am constantly marvelling at this miracle of a tiny (or not so tiny...) being that grew in my tummy from almost nothing. My insides want to explode when he smiles and giggles or sucks his little fisty and snuggles his blanket, because I don't have words for how wonderful and amazing it is.

Five months in and the novelty hasn't worn off yet ;) 

I am beyond grateful for everything we have been given.

Relationship is Key to Communication

Checking for something on my GP record I came across the report from my recent psychiatrist review. I'm not normally under a psychiatrist but everyone under mental health services is offered a psychiatrist review after having a baby. This means the psychiatrist and I hadn't met before and didn't know each other other than them having read a brief summary of my medical notes.

At the time I was aware there had been some gaps in our communication but over all I had a neutral feeling about the experience - it happened and it wasn't particularly significant. 

When I read the report I realised the size of the discrepancy between what was received and my experience.

The more I think about it the more I realise how much less than optimal that appointment was. It wasn't anybody's fault, but it made what could have been a useful checkpoint into a box-ticking exercise.

I am aware that I wasn't doing my best communication on the day. My brain function was a bit compromised and my emotions were offline so I didn't even think of some of the things I could have expressed (like how the matter of what therapy I may or may not be getting has been going on for about a year and is driving me mad). 

Some things I might have wanted to say two weeks previously didn't seem important because they had faded as my priorities changed and my perspective skewed. Other things I tried to communicate but obviously didn't quite succeed at.

If I lived a few miles up the road I would have known the psychiatrist. I have practised communicating with that one. I have developed ways to tell her the most difficult of things and get round the troublesome bits of my brain. She is familiar with my idiosyncratic style of communication. And there's simply the fact that she knows me and would have been able to tell just by how I was presenting that I wasn't doing great.

I know that my situation is perhaps unusual in that I don't know my local psychiatrist and I do know the next-door one, but the point I'm getting at is the importance of relationship in communication. Especially for people whose communication is not "typical" or who appear to communicate fine but actually might not.

It wasn't anybody's fault - I could have communicated better but wasn't really in a state to do so, and the psychiatrist could have helped me more but she didn't know me so she didn't know there was anything to help with or how to help. 

But reading the report showed me that even what I thought I was communicating or tried to communicate hadn't reached its target effectively and that the gap between us was bigger than I had thought. Even things I had corrected on were still written wrongly. The group I mentioned in my previous post had a session on effective communication last week and one of the features highlighted was relationship. I've noticed it before in my post about continuity of care and here it pops up again. I think the frequency with which it appears means it's important. Not always possible, but important.

I'm a person too, and that's OK

Sorry this is a long one! Think I'm guilty here of trying to tell the whole story and wittering on about something that could be said succinctly. And doing that very clumsily at times. But I can't be bothered to edit any more to make it pretty and readable because I add more instead of editing out!

I had a good reflection today.

In a group we were talking about self-esteem and assertiveness and I had a bit of a warm fuzzy thinking about how much I have come on in this area over the past few years. 

One of my core ideals is to be kind to others, to help people when I can and to have a positive effect on those I come into contact with and so for me people thinking I'm unkind, self-centred, rude, greedy or lazy is one of the worst things that could happen. I know I shouldn't care so much what people think of me but I do. Because I communicate in a different way from the majority of people (eg. I don't always realise the truth may be offensive - if I state the truth it is simply that, without judgment, but I think others infer a judgment and are then upset because they think I'm saying something is bad when actually I'm just saying something is) and my face and body language don't always convey my true feelings in the way people would expect, I have many times been misinterpreted and this has resulted in my beliefs, thoughts, behaviour and emotions gradually becoming more and more skewed in order to stay safe from being viewed in those upsetting ways that are so against my values. (Perhaps it seems so intolerable because not only is it upsetting but it's not true. It doesn't line up with the facts of who I am?) 

But recently I've become less black and white and learnt that expressing my own needs, thoughts and opinions does not necessarily mean other people's are squashed and that I am acting against my values. "Both of these things can be true" is a phrase I frequently come back to that really has transformed how I approach some aspects of life (when I remember!).

Back to self-esteem, thankfully I have never had the belief that I am a completely terrible, useless, rubbish person - I had some internal confidence in the things I had abilities in and in myself as a vaguely kind person. But... I did not esteem myself highly, or much at all. I didn't think I mattered. I would happily put myself in rejection or ridicule's way if it were a matter of someone else's wellbeing but if I needed something or felt hurt I would stay quiet. I downplayed abilities for fear of being rejected or ridiculed. I placed little to no importance on myself, my needs and my wishes. Although I didn't believe I was bad or useless, I somehow believed I was less important than others and that if there were any discrepancies the other person must be right. Put others first; don't presume upon anyone to put themselves out for you. I still think these are worthwhile values, but my brain is black and white and takes everything to its logical conclusion, so these become "your needs and wishes are not as important as others' and you must never inconvenience anyone." And then "you should be invisible and not need anything." 

Somewhere over the past few years I have moved on slightly. The therapy and support I've had has probably (definitely) helped! I'm not sure whether I have consciously tried to be more assertive in my communication (where previously I would have been passive because I was so worried that I would appear aggressive/awkward/obnoxious, offend somebody, inconvenience somebody or just that they would misinterpret and think I didn't care or didn't like them) or whether it has happened naturally as I have started to understand and accept myself more.

I was so scared of trampling on others that I daredn't exist. I still mitigate most requests with disclaimers and most refusals with apologies but I now place enough value on myself that I am more likely to express my needs or do what I need to. I don't (always) automatically feel guilty and that I am bad or wrong for stating honestly my perspective with respect and kindness towards the other party. 

And on reflection it's actually better for everyone if I am assertive (which doesn't mean trampling on others but expressing my needs and opinions clearly but kindly). Being assertive involves behaving with proper compassion (not just "niceness") to both myself and others, and gaining an understanding of this through therapy has definitely helped too. It's obviously better for my own wellbeing because I don't end up in burnout and resorting to unhelpful coping strategies (as much) - which would be reason enough to celebrate - but it can be helpful for others too. Looking at it the other way round, I feel much more settled amongst people who are assertive because I know I can ask them things because I know they will say no if it's not right for them. If I can't trust someone to say no then I can't ask them to help because I can't be sure they won't help me at their own expense. When I know people understand and are comfortable expressing their needs or opinions then I'm not worried that I will hurt them unwittingly. And so I can return the compliment by not giving people the extra work of trying to guess when and how to help me and whether my needs are being catered for. 

As we talked about what low self esteem can look like - including never saying no, always saying sorry, perfectionism, avoiding situations eg conflict or going out, not challenging self etc - I realised that I am much less like that than I used to be. Sometimes it's little things like saying "thank you" instead of "sorry" and other times it's bigger things like asking for help when I feel that I shouldn't need it, or saying "no" to something that will be detrimental to me. I have actually come a long way and that is great. Some of the things I have learnt have started to stick and although I still struggle with many thoughts and beliefs about myself and the world, some of those problematic areas have seen a shift. And the fact that I'm more comfortable with that says a lot in itself about how I value myself. Other things will be harder to change but it is helpful to notice that some movement has happened and that it is both acceptable and positive. Maybe other changes will eventually become acceptable too.

Edited to add: Searching for a title for this, I realised I am much better at referring to myself in the first person now - maybe I'm getting better at having a "me."

Fifty-Six Weeks

*Trigger warning: early pregnancy*

Feeding you at eleven fifteen I'm grateful. Changing your nappy and both our pyjamas at two I am thankful. Giving you Calpol at three I do not take for granted. Repeating it all at four, five and six AM is OK with me (for tonight at least!). 

A year ago today I found out about you: you were a bunch of cells the size of a poppy seed, two lines on a stick. I barely dared to believe you would stay around until I could meet you, and I tentatively told two people that I thought you were there. I couldn't even be certain and I knew how fragile your little life was and how unlikely to grow, and yet how amazing that it was there at all.

And here you are - here we are. Snuggling through the night with your bronchiolitis and post-immunisation fever, four months old in the morning. Four months after you joined us out here, eight months after we found out about you six months after I came home. One year of you - I can't begin to say how thankful I am for you, the you I didn't know whether could exist, or whether would stay and grow. Meeting you seemed too good to be true, yet here we are. You can never know all you have done for me, all you have taught me, all that you mean to me. I have all I could have asked for. 

Rambling

Probably my favourite walk I've been on since the teeny one came along. In the moment, mindful in the best sense of the word, and connected.

A dog has had a happy time here too!

Cool air on my face, muted quietness dulling the country sounds under a layer of cloud, and the contrast between the angular scrunchy stones waking up each spot of my feet and the soft springy damp turf. 

The smell of damp earth and trees. The silent swoop of a buzzard. The warmth and gentle breath of the baby sleeping close against me in the sling. His coos and curious expression as he wakes up and looks around. The patterns of the spiralling straw in its bales that mirrors the perfect swirl of hair on the back of his head.

The shadows and changing light in the furrows of the ploughed fields as twilight falls. Relative freedom from memories as I stay present in the moment, walking in the more agricultural areas away from all the trees that carry the strongest reminders, and giving thanks for all the good things in my life, and for hope.