Titles and ‘The Greyness’

First play this –

Titles are important.
They say a lot about what to expect. We rely on them as snappy soundbites of information to make judgements on what’s put before us: is this blog post worth my time, will this book actually be as good as recommended, will this new Subway sandwich be as tasty as it sounds?
So I thought I’d explain this blog title – what’s with ‘A Shelter From the Rain’, and why do I describe it as “The Rambling Thoughts of an Affected Optimist”? And I’m afraid, this won’t be a snappy soundbite, but hopefully it is worthwhile.

This blog began as therapy. I think quite a lot of blogs do; for the chance to say the things that we can’t out loud, or to win back some ‘me-time’ from the madness of family or work or whatever our lives entail. It’s in that space that I decided to do this.

I’ve mentioned before here that I suffer from ‘The Greyness’. This isn’t my hip way of reinventing the term ‘depression’. I guess that word is an example of a title which doesn’t sit well with me. I find it difficult to say the word for what feels like a heavy, joy-stealing, colourless burden that wraps itself around me every so often. Perhaps for me the stigma hasn’t gone from it yet. There’s still a guilt in me over it all. Why should I feel so low when I have an amazing family, a brilliant new husband and amazing friends who all love me? Why should I be so lethargic and empty inside when I have the power of a great God, the community of church, and the sort of ‘brotherhood’ that I feel with my musician friends as we serve that community every week. I know calling it The Greyness doesn’t change what it is, but it helps take the sting away.

I just turned 23 years old (I know, ridiculously young bride, but I’ll maybe get onto that one some other time), but I remember being 10 years and having a period of weeks when I couldn’t get to sleep. I would get a deep sickness in my stomach about an hour before bedtime, and when I went to bed, I would waste away hours just lying there waiting to fall asleep. I also became quiet and lazy, which really wasn’t in my nature. I didn’t want to go anywhere or do anything, I just wanted to do something mindless like watch TV. I would also get emotional at things without being able to explain why.
I didn’t know it then, and I wouldn’t realise for a long time, but that was the start of ‘The Greyness’.

It didn’t reappear until I was 15. I was in the middle of my GCSEs (external exams which you do midway through your secondary education), and things changed, except this time I could measure why. I had witnessed a stranger trying to end her life by jumping in front of traffic; this combined with the revelation that a lot of my friends had been self-harming made me become quite introspective. I thought more about death and mortality than any teenager should, though I never wanted life to end, it was more that I became heightened to the reality that life is fragile and it scared me. It was actually a teacher who noticed that I wasn’t myself; a wonderful man whose passion for his subject was only surpassed with his passion for the well-being of those he taught. He mentioned one afternoon after class that I seemed distant, and should I need to talk with anyone, he would be available. During class I found it very difficult to concentrate which got me in trouble, and then I would get irrationally upset when I was told off. I became reclusive, trying to avoid mixing with large crowds of people because this made me feel trapped. I was constantly tired and moody and it impacted my relationships with family and friends. I felt like I had lost myself; I couldn’t discern what were my true thoughts and what were poisoned by these feelings. I would get so low that I would lose the power to speak more than one-word answers.

Eventually I did speak with this teacher who suggested that I may be feeling depressed. He explained it like a dark cloud that is always hovering above you, and sometimes it feels like it has dropped down to surround you in its darkness. For some reason that made sense to me, but I didn’t tell anyone about it and managed to fight my way through myself, something I’m not proud of. It was a stupid decision, and it would have made this journey easier if I had spoken up at that stage.

There have been other major times but for me, the thing about ‘The Greyness’ is that in a way it’s always there. That’s not the same for everyone, but I have felt some days during a good period where I drop into that place again. I think that’s ok though, especially now that I can admit what those feelings are and actually talk them out.

When I was 18, I forced myself to see who this was making me and that was the first time I told my boyfriend (who is now my husband). I hadn’t confided in anyone about it and it felt like such a relief to have someone who knew. He doesn’t understand it all the time, but he knows that sometimes I might cry for no real reason, or be distracted. He knows not to take it personally when I’m like that, and he knows that I don’t need him to give me advice, I just want someone to talk to and let me hide in a hug.

And so… despite all this I’ve always been an optimist, and I like that about myself. When people complain about something, I guess I prefer to see the silver lining. That’s why I called described this blog as “the ramblings of an affected optimist”; the place where I can waffle on about stuff that has affected me past and present and have that moment of therapy.

As for the title, sometimes it’s fun to be out in rain. Other times you need a shelter; not to hide from it, but just to sit and watch it from somewhere a little safer. I’m have no qualification to advise on how I’ve felt, but I suppose I just hope that my experiences can bring comfort to those like me and so here are some things I’ve learned from this:

1. People are important – all the medical advice for this condition suggests spending time with friends and forcing yourself to be sociable. I definitely didn’t feel like doing that in hard times, but friends are important. They reassure us that we are valued and that we belong. That’s what is often missing from our lives in these times.
2. Talk it out – it’s tempting to hide these feelings. I did for a long time, even from those who knew me best. It is so important however to have a ‘venting’ strategy! Whether that be with someone you know, or a complete stranger who is qualified to listen, you need the opportunity to get what’s in your head out in the air. Sometimes that brings the logic and understanding that we feel is missing. Regardless, it’s not safe to bottle up.
3. Get fresh air and light – they say that exercise releases some kind of happy endorphin. I suck at exercise, so it feels like extra work! But my friend (realising that I wasn’t myself) suggested Zumba. It was everything that terrifies me: exercise, public embarrassment, crowds, new things, lycra! But you know what, it was such craic (NOTE: Craic means fun, banter etc) and I needed it. Whatever your thing is, just get out and get active.
4. Eat well – overeating makes you feel fat and sad afterwards. It’s incredibly hypocritical of me to say that because right now I’m eating a huge bag of crisps. Similarly though, undereating is stupid because you feel tireder and even more lethargic. Be sensible, and if that means forcing your family or housemates or whatever to cook for you then do it.
5. Look for the little good – I think we miss a lot of great things, partly because we’re a digital generation with iPhones strapped to our faces. Really though, we rush around missing everything beautiful around us. I’ve been more deliberate in this ever since the Thanks Book and it’s working. We are incredible fortunate people, with amazing things happening all around us. It just takes time to open our eyes and notice.

And so, finally I am over and out and for today, sheltered from the rain.

When we Collide

It’s been a while since my last post. Things have been really good lately!

• Dave and I are in a really good place and we’ve been working on our wee house to get it feeling a bit more like our own home.
• I also got results from the doctor and I found out that have an iron and B12 deficiency. That’s what has been making me feel so tired and faint, and it’s also been affecting my mood. The doctor also said that I have been taking panic attacks due to over-exertion and stress. It’s good to have more certainty about where all these feelings have been coming from, and with the B12 injections and a bit more care for my body, my time and mood, I have been feeling much more like myself!
• School’s on the wind down, so I have a lot more time to finish up bits of admin and paperwork. It also means that I feel more at ease to go socialise without as much pressure in marking and lesson prep.
• It was my birthday and I had such a class time. I went over to Mum and Dad’s and had a family Chinese takeaway treat. Dave gave me an amazing ukulele with a Fishman pickup so I can play it in band! Then my brother and sister got me a SNEZ with Zelda and Mario which I have always wanted!

Something happened last night though that has put a real dampener on things. I have a friend with whom there’s a lot of history. This guy was one of my best friends about 6 years ago and he knows everything about me, including the stuff I wish no-one knew. When I started going out with Dave his attitude changed, and I should have listened to people when they said he was romantically interested. The thing is though that we were the most platonic any friendship could be, and I’m not in some kind of denial here. I saw him as a big brother and we only ever really socialised with our group of friends, but I’m a bit oblivious sometimes on the flirting front it seems and maybe I missed that whole vibe from him?

Over the last 2 years, things have been quite horrible actually. At first our friendship faded to nothing more than a casual acquaintanceship even though we work together in church every week. Then it turned viscous and he began to personally attack me in my professional role within church. People began to notice and asked what had happened for this kind of behaviour to manifest itself, and I had to honestly say that I had no idea. I’ve had to practise all the patience and grace I have, because it’s tough enough having someone who sees you as an enemy. It’s worse when that person is an old friend.

Last night he pulled me aside to talk, and verbally attacked me in a way I have never been spoken to before. He faulted my character, my work and my family (that last one was tough to stay calm for) and all I could do was let him get it out and then step away. On top of that, he has quit his role alongside me because he says he can’t work under me anymore.

It’s got me down to be honest, but I had to confide in our pastoral care worker (because it was an accusation of character) and they were so compassionate and helpful. I’m trying to stay positive and continue on with grace and integrity. I suppose life gives these knocks sometimes, and the proof of character is the manner in which you face them.

List Confessions

I love lists.

That makes me sound like a compulsive person – the kind who you imagine to have an organised knicker drawer. I’m actually laughing at that idea because at the moment I’m lifting knickers from the washing line every morning.
I am illogical, horrifically forgetful and pretty random. Still though, for some reason I find listing sort of fun.

It might be due to a habit we had growing up. I was part of an amazing youth group where I met all my best friends and twice a year we’d go away on a weekend residential trip. It would be the thing you looked forward to all year, and when it was done you felt a pang that you’d have to wait months until the next one. We’d get up to stupid activities; dopey talent shows, messy games, horror hide and seek and the likes. The best fun though was when we went to our dorms at night and played ‘top 5’. We’d have to list our top 5 guys in the group and then we made an ultimate top 5 from all our confessions. It was hilarious and we still remember the secrets that came out when we were 15 years old.

Lists help me think, maybe that’s why I started The Thanks Book (which is actually still going believe it or not!)

Anyways in true listing fashion, here is a list of my 7 favourite books (lists are always better in odd numbers)

1. The Great Gatsby – F.S. Fitzgerald
2. A Farewell to Arms – Ernest Hemingway
3. The Catcher in the Rye – J.D. Salinger
4. The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe – C.S. Lewis
5. The Things They Carried – Tim O’Brien
6. The Lord of the Rings – JRR Tolkien
7. Captain Corelli’s Mandolin – Louis de Bernieres

Awkwardly Watching the Cool Kids

I am currently sitting with a class of five ‘cool kids’. These are the notorious drug users, or at least they’re happy for that rumour to spread to get credibility. Usually there are seventeen kids here but there are official GCSE exams on today, so these are the ones who aren’t good enough to be admitted.

I’ve let them have the last ten minutes to chat because it’s been a busy week for them so far, but I’m almost regretting it. They’re talking about the party they went to at the weekend, and how Bobby got skunked (intoxicated) and Allie slept with a 50 year old married guy in the back garden. Then there’s me; sitting here typing and feeling once more like the 15 year old version of myself. Me, the little ‘church kid’ who looked like an idiot when my classmates talked about their weekend escapades. Except the difference is that now I have to intervene and discipline for inappropriate talk.

Looking at these kids though their lives are so pathetic, and I don’t mean that in the insulting way. It’s more that their stories break my heart. The pretty, slim blonde girl is living along with her mum’s new boyfriend who called her little sister a ‘c***’ last night. The hard lad joker of the group is really very insecure in his own ability and knows that even though he tries his best, he’ll get G grades in all of his exams. The loud, obnoxious girl with the 39% attendance mark has a deaf brother and lacks the academic ability to learn sign language to communicate with him properly. The tall lad who’s always in trouble for his anger and violence doesn’t have a supportive home. And the quiet larger guy who hands in empty exam papers has a pastoral issue that I’m not even allowed to know because it’s held in confidence by senior staff.

So I’m left thinking where this leaves me. They will have their last class here in 2 weeks time and I wonder if this place has left any mark on them for good? This is the class I probably like the best, but they are also the ones who think I hate them because I yap on at them to work hard. I guess that’s what I signed up to though and it’s my job to show them the way to their success, be it academic, pastoral, spiritual or emotional.
That’s the aim anyway.

The Thanks Book

Part of me wants to use this space to rant again; spill out the self-piteous poetry of hurts and hope that it makes me feel better. But I’ve just realised something in these last few minutes waiting for my school computer to log on…

I woke up sad. I went to the doctors yesterday because I haven’t been feeling top. If you knew me, you’d know that’s a BIG thing for me because I hate the doctors. My doctor himself is lovely, but I panic going into the waiting room because I feel people’s eyes trying to suss you out and I freak out because I don’t know how you’re meant to behave in there. Anyway, I’m waiting for some bloods to come back and I’m a little scared because I know that there’s a strong possibility that all the physical symptoms I’m feeling are simply the manifestation of a ‘head-problem’.

Now please don’t get me wrong, I am not trivialising mental health conditions; I have struggled with the weight of the Greyness for a long time now. It comes and goes from me in seasons, so I’m not trying to demote its importance in any sense. Even still, part of me hopes and prays that there is a physically tangible explanation for how I’ve been feeling because I’m scared of the other thing.

Why is that? Maybe it’s the social stigma that keeps me trying desperately to hide it or the fear that medication might affect my job, mortgage, life insurance prospects.Or perhaps it’s because “the joy of the Lord” is meant to be my strength to get through each day, and I don’t feel much joy or strength these days. Either way I’m always conscious that this will consume me again – this gray nothingness that overpowers my natural optimism, my ‘quirkiness’, my joy and forces me to exhaust myself trying to pretend that I’m the same person. But I’m not, and in some ways, I think this has stolen a little bit of me that I might never get back fully. There are lots of reasons for all this that I don’t need to get into, but I’ve become a cautious person and that’s not who I used to be.

So as I waited this morning for my school computer to log on, I started thinking over the last few days, and I’ve realised that now is the time to live ‘intentionally’. That’s a stupid hipster word that Christians overuse to show that they’re living a good life, but that’s not how I mean it. I’m no psychologist, but I figure that mood has a lot to do with attitude. I see it in the kids I teach and I suppose I’ve just figured that it applies to me too. I’ve realised that I have a handful of reasons to wake up unhappy and a multitude more to wake up in joy. Without the clichéd speak of God-talk/motivational teachers, I have come to see that I am not awake to the little wonders that unfold around me every day and to the wonderful moments which I ought to acknowledge more fully.

I don’t know if this is a one-day phase but I’m trying to see the small things (and the big) that I should notice more often so I’ve started a thanks book full of things that should make me feel thankful (and hopefully in a better headspace). Maybe it’ll not do anything to help much but at least I can make a better effort at saying thanks.
So thanks for listening 🙂

Mr Kennedy

The school atmosphere can be a little weird sometimes. Our school is undergoing a huge change because we’re amalgamating in September with another local high school. I probably won’t be here because I’m only on a one year contract, but the impact of it on staff now is unbelievable.

School politics is pretty normal; staff cliques form and it’s a way of life to suck up to the guy with the most power to get what you need. Here though it’s magnified.
The gossip can be hard to take and people are trampling on others to get where they want to go. My head of department is a key example. She is lovely but not always rational, and has a tongue sharper than Ryan Reynolds in a well-fitting suit. I guess sometimes it’s just a little hard to discern who you can trust to speak frankly to and who will spread it like a disease around school. It gets a little demoralising sometimes. I used to go down to the staff room at lunchtime but it’s turned into a bitch fight, so now I just hang in my room with a cuppa coffee and some good music and try to bring the tension levels down.

But in the middle of this wilderness is Mr Kennedy.
Mr Kennedy is a PE teacher, probably in his 40’s and he is an actual God-send. He is always upbeat, always chirpy and seems to infect the airspace with good feeling. Today for example, coming up the stairs to my room some lads spouted inappropriate comments at me. Little did I know, Mr Kennedy was coming behind me and I heard him stop the lads. I turned around and he was telling them that you never talk to a lady that way and especially not a lady who is giving her time to educate you to become fine gentlemen. He said that a decent human being would apologise, but that they ought to take a moment to find the right words so a letter might be best fitting.
Then when they had gone he smiled at me and said, “keep the chin up Miss, you’re doing a great job today and we all appreciate you”. Day made!

The Tuesday Traumas

Something I should probably mention: I’m a teacher.

The thing is though, I know that immediately your eyes are rolling and you want to close this tab down but it’s not like that. I guess I enjoy it and maybe it’s what I’m meant to do, but often I’m not convinced. You see, I went straight into an English degree from school, straight into a year long teaching qualification and straight into my first school. So, I’m only 4 years older than my form class and it’s weird. I’m not sure I’ve made the transition yet from being a young eejit to teaching young eejits (Note: where I come from ‘eejit’ is a friendly term for someone who acts immaturely).

Part of me feels much too young to be in this role, and most of me still hates the fact that I can’t go anywhere near my house without seeing people I teach in school. Most of the time it’s ok because the pupils come up and say hello and ask who the tall, handsome guy is that I’m holding hands with. Sometimes though you see them do the same thing I would have done 4 years ago; pretend you need to go into the nearest shop for something and mouth to your friend, ‘what is Miss doing here? Isn’t she meant to be in school?’

It’s an odd school too: 11-18 year olds from a very prejudiced and sectarian area in Northern Ireland. There’s a lot of drug misuse and many of the kids come from very unstable home situations. All these things together creates a very volatile situation, so it’s not uncommon for me to be the one who breaks up a boxing session in the playground or confiscate sex/drug related contraband.

So yeah, this has been my life for the last year! But anyway, back to the real theme of this post – Tuesdays. For me, Tuesdays are the spawn of Satan. Tuesday is that day that seems so far away from the last weekend and too far from the coming one. Also it’s my day with a full teaching timetable and a lot of hyper kids. To illustrate, here’s a look at today so far:

9AM – Confronted by teacher to say I haven’t completed an voluntary online survey about staff well-being. I didn’t complete because I didn’t feel I could be honest and I don’t want to be rude. I guess I thought voluntary meant you could choose but it seems not.

9:45AM – A pupil called me the ‘C’ word. And to make it worse, I like this pupil so it pains me to punish her so severely for bad language.

10:50 AM – I can’t stop sneezing because of hay fever. I’m reading out loud in class and it’s a bit ridiculous. Pretty wasted lesson because we were all in stitches laughing.

12 PM – I have a coursework moderation to make sure I’m marking GCSE (16 year olds finals) appropriately. I’m scared.

1:30 PM – Just went into the bathroom and realised that I forgot to put on make-up today. I look rough.

2PM – I have not stopped shouting today because the sudden sunshine has made all our ADHD (Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder) kids go haywire, and we have a lot of them. I really hate shouting.

3PM – I brought a piece of my friend’s birthday cake with me as an after school treat to cheer me up because I felt sad this morning. Now I feel sad because I entered the calories on my new fitness app ( a lot of butter and chocolate!!)

I know those are all trivial things, but when they add up it sort of ticks me off. Here’s to a better Wednesday!

Post the First

Flip. Where do we begin then?

I guess this is one of those things that will get less heart-stingily embarrassing with time, but at the moment this feels very strange.
I’m not one for baring my soul. I’m the one who asks you how you are and relaxes when I realise you’ve got enough to say that’ll keep this conversation going whilst I nod reassuringly.

But to be honest, life has been a little stressful lately; isn’t that how it is with us all sometimes? And it’s within this headspace then that I came to this bright idea – blog my way around the rainy days from the shelter of a digital world. I know that sounds very melodramatic, but I promise I’m normal – at least I think so!

And don’t get me wrong, it’s not as if I can’t talk to flesh and blood humans! There are a collection of very special people in my life and I’m sure I’ll mention them; but here they are satire and I will be always…

sheltered from the rain.