Instructions on Confidence

I'm Lydia, and you might know me from such Facebook posts as "I'm spiralling" and "I fell in a hole".

Outwardly I scream confidence, but inside?

Put it this way, I am what happens when you put armour on a jellyfish. My armour is my wit, my empathy, and my smile.

A warning to begin with; this blog jumps around a bit. It’s not linear because I’m not linear.

My parents have always raised me to be confident. There are numerous videos of me singing, dancing, holding court with my aunts and uncles, and generally being the centre of attention.

Little Confident Lydia
(Author's Own)

Before we go on, I must talk about privilege. I know that despite my brown face and femaleness, I am extremely privileged. I have a wonderfully middle-class life in Manchester with my wife and our two cats. I’m university educated with two degrees, and I’m in fulltime employment. This is how and why I am able to exude faux confidence when I'm depressed. It's a long learned skill.

When I was 10, a girl in my class decided to bully me.

What followed was 15 years of victimhood and my confidence was knocked at every turn. People who didn't like my confidence picked on me, chipping away at my armour.

In 2007, I started the long road back to some semblance of confident me. I applied to appear on How To Look Good Naked with Gok Wan. I was selected and went down to London, a few times a week, for 6 weeks to be pampered, preened and polished. They told me I was great. I needed to hear it.

The 6 weeks culminated in a nude photoshoot and a catwalk show at The Trafford Centre.

And then everything was ok!

Of course, I'm kidding! I was filled with pseudo-confidence, bravado. Despite the joy of doing How To Look Good Naked, I was plagued with the spectre of mental health. I am PROOF that you can be destroyed by mental health problems and STILL appear to be confident.

My depression started at around 15 years old when my parents moved away for work and I went to live with a family from church while I did my GCSEs. I was 15 so I thought I knew everything, but in reality, I had compartmentalised. I was being bullied, I was just discovering my sexuality, and I was, at times, not able to see my parents when they came to visit me.
 

Supporting Behind the Mask Mental Health Charity
(Author's Own)

The trickle of sadness started there and grew into a looming, snarling black dog over several years until medical intervention.

After the show, it took years to work out what confidence actually was. At this time I was still being bullied, by a so-called friend. I was taking months off work unable to get out of bed and I was miserable in my job. 

So how did I get it back?

Lesson #1

Make changes.

I left my job at the Council in 2008. It was a job that consisted of speaking to mostly vulnerable people to get them to pay their council tax arrears. It was a toxic environment where, again, I found myself bullied. I was also being micro-managed, belittled, and disciplined for just existing.

I think it was my brown face, queer haircut and outspoken desire for change within the department that she hated. But who knows?

So I went back to university! I did a teaching degree and took a break from myself.

Lesson #2

Find your passion.

Around the same time, I started working for Chorley FM (yes it's real) on their LGBT show. It was a revelation! I could talk to my heart's content, be politically engaged and outspoken, and play music, following in my dad's footsteps. From there I moved to Gaydio, did a spot on BBC Radio Manchester, and then joined the Gay Agenda team, guesting on a weekly radio show (now a lively podcast). 

When I'm presenting, or guesting, I am unashamedly outspoken and confident.

Lesson #3

It's OK to be someone else for a bit.

In 2010, a friend asked me to take part in a drag king competition. It wasn't my first foray into drag, but I hadn't done it in many years. I got through to the final and ended up leading the Pride Parade as Our Kelly, just behind Sir Ian McKellan. 

Since then I have done drag all over the country. I have performed at Pride festivals, hosted burlesque shows, and even have my own night "The Boi Zone". I'm never as confident as I am when I'm in drag behind a literal mask, and that's OK.

Lesson #4

Find confidence in the bad stuff.

It's easier to be confident when you're happy and healthy. But the place I found the most confidence was my depression. Coming out loud and proud about my depression and anxiety about my suicidal feelings and hopelessness, when to others it seemed like everything was great, helped immensely. 

When you tell people, they tell you and you find confidence in the sharing of those dark secrets.

Lesson #5

Be an imposter

Whatever I'm doing, I feel like I'm faking it. So I embrace that. I behave the way a competent person would. This is how I push myself forward, by just doing the thing I think I can't.

Like sharing this.

Stand Up

It's time to stand up...

A few weeks ago I posted an entry about not marching, not loudly protesting.

Well something just changed that.

This story about a woman who left a suicide note stating "I don't [blame] anyone for me death expect [sic] the government."

It can be argued that she may have been severely depressed before she received the letter confirming she would lose £80.00 per month as an "Under Occupancy Penalty". She may have had other struggles and mental health is not black and white. But on the other hand, even if the difficulties she was facing under the new Welfare Reform Act were merely a catalyst, isn't it possible to see the correlation between her finding out she was going to lose £80.00 per month of her benefits, that she would need to find or lose her home and her ultimately stepping out onto the M6?

It's time to act.

I have no idea how, although I suspect there will be a slew of protest marches across the country. I think it's time for me to start a slightly louder protest.

Now, the facts of the case are that she was offered an alternative home - but it was unsuitable, isolating her from her family and without good transport links. The Council were unable to offer her a property in the same area she had lived for over a decade, close to her family. How is this moral? And let's be clear, the way the legislation is written, this is a moral rather than a legal issue.

Will you join me? Will you stand up? 

Will you get angry with me? Will you shout?

Because I'm furious, and I KNOW I'm not the only one.

Eternal Darkness of the Depressed Mind...

I'm not feeling especially dark today. I'm having a long awaited visitor tonight and I'm ploughing through the cleaning quite well. In addition, I'm making my favourite Jewish Penicillin (Chicken Soup), and there's enough Pumpkin Pie to go around from last night!


I just wanted to give you an insight into my brain. If you make a suggestion to me, my brain goes into overdrive and although you might not notice, there's a millisecond of fear on my face as I immediately think of the worst possible outcome. Here are just a few of my insane and unpleasant imaginings. Please be aware that these are products of my dark mind, and I'm ok right now - you don't need to worry about me right now. Although these are thoughts I've had, and they are especially dark, remember it's also quite funny that these are the thoughts my mind immediately jumps to...


1) When walking home from the shops with an especially heavy load and no pull along trolley...
Me - "Hmm, maybe I'll ask that kind gentleman if he'll carry my shopping home..."
Brain - "If you ask him, and he says yes, he might then force himself into the flat and attack you, possibly rape you and then the police won't be able to prosecute because you invited him in..."


2) Upon witnessing drug dealing while walking to the shops...
Me - "I ought to call the police immediately to give them the best chance of catching these sleaze bags..."
Brain - "If you call the police and they get caught, they will have seen you on the phone, know it's you who shopped them, and make you the victim of a campaign of misery, concluding with your death..."

3) When my parents' phone goes to voicemail...

Me - "Hmmm, they must be busy, I'll call later..."

Brain - "What if there's been an accident, they could be injured, Dad could have had a heart attack, a family member could have died... Call back, as many times as you can until they pick up, phone Mum at work, phone your brother... Don't be so selfish..."

4) When a payment is returned by the bank...

Me - "I'll phone my creditor and I'm sure they will understand..."

Brain - "If this payment has failed, the next one definitely will, and I'll be bankrupt by Christmas"

(This one actually occurred last week when I went to visit the CAB and they actually said "I'll start with the worst possible scenario and work backwards..." - I had moments earlier told him that I'd just had a diagnosis of depression...)

5) Whilst watching fireworks...

Nickie - "Oh look, a Chinese Lantern floating over us..."

Brain - "The candle inside could fall out and scalding wax could drip onto my face..."

(Unfortuately, I said this one aloud!)

I'm going to continue adding to this in the hope that eventually my brain will realise it's being ridiculous!

What's behind that smile?

A few weeks ago I was reading the Daily Mail (don't judge me), when I came across this article - Smiling Depression - This totally describes me. In the early stages of my spiral down into depression, you'd never know by looking at me. Outwardly, I'll have a big smile on my face, I'll be making jokes and I'll be the usual social butterfly. Inside however, that black stone will be growing in my chest. That's the best way I can describe it, a black stone. Think of a sphere, dark as granite. I swear that when I'm depressed, I feel heavier (not just because of the comfort eating)... It honestly feels like something physical is weighing me down and everything slows down. 


I have only really just realised the extent of this new cycle of depression. I now realise it has been coming for a long while, but to begin with, not even Nickie knew. I was smiling and hiding/ignoring beginnings of the fall. At that point, I hadn't yet reached the edge of the cliff, the slope was gentle and easy to manage. The stone was a mere grain. I guess that was around September; money was getting tight, I'd been off work for over a month and I still hadn't had a scan. Come October and NYC and I the slope was getting steeper. I was still hiding it well, the pain I felt in New York wasn't just my back ache, but the growing knotted ball of depression characterised by guilt, anxiety and stomach problems.


Returning from New York threw me off the cliff. I came back to emails which threw me majorly off kilter, declined debit/credit cards and Nickie's new job which took her out of the house for 13 hours each day. Add jet lag and I was no longer functioning. Even at this point, I was convincing myself (and Nickie) that this was nothing more than post-holiday blues. By Halloween, I was immersed in full on moderate-to-severe depression (as diagnosed by my doctor). Later that week I began taking mood stabilisers. That was just over a week ago.


Since then my sleep patterns have been erratic to say the least. I am sleeping 1.5 nights out of three and as such I am exhausted most of the time. On the nights I do sleep, it is through sheer exhaustion, following a full night awake. I cry myself to sleep, my brain fogged with memories of bad and/or embarrassing experiences from my past. There's a tiny voice (not literally), which reminds me of that time when I... (insert painful anecdote here). Right now it's almost 4am and I have not slept a wink. Worse still, I have kept Nickie up all night. She has been so amazingly understanding and supportive throughout this, researching the condition, holding me when the tears come, loving me and just plain being there. But I know that this is killing her. I also know that if she could take away black stone in my chest and insert it into her own chest, she would. I feel like it would be better all round if I just went to my Mum's for a while, but I know she'd worry more being unable to see me every day. 


I ache from typing this so I'm going to sign off...


Suggestions and help is most welcome.

Return to the Cuckoo's Nest

I'm rapidly going out of my mind. I thought I'd hidden myself really well from my Mental Health demons. They found me in bed on Saturday and wouldn't let me go to sleep. I covered well, even managing to convince myself that I was staying awake to care for my beloved. The demons have set up residence now. They are engaged in an "Occupy Lydia's Soul" protest. They have placards that say "You're not good enough" "We are the 99% that believes Lydia is worthless". They have also stolen all of my spoons. I'm back in that dark place now...


Night Vision


Someone switched the lights off, I rely on my Night Vision
I only wish I'd eaten more carrots.


Someone switched the lights off, every time I pass a mirror, I see a shadow of my former self
I barely recognise me.


Because it was dark, I fell down a well, it's even darker and full of monsters
They are taunting me.


The walls are rough and spiked with glass and nails like The Trunchbull's Chokey...
I wish I was still a child reading Matilda.


My voice echoes back to me, I'm in too deep to be rescued
It is so dark, even the good things in silhouette cast scary shadows. 


I can't get out.
I can't see a light.
My heart is breaking.
I can't breathe.


Someone switched the lights off, my Night Vision's failing
There aren't enough carrots in the world