Writing for Well Being

I was afforded the opportunity to attend a ‘Writing for Well Being’ workshop on Saturday and although I have blogged for years now which I do credit with being a prophylaxis in my own sense of well being but this workshop encouraged me to re-examine my sense of perspective. I LOVED this workshop, such a different way of writing for me.
We were encouraged to write with specific prompts given but then the freedom to let words flow as they entered our brains and exited via our pens.

The first task we were given was to think about a word we like, a favourite word maybe. I chose pomegranate, I just like the way it sounds.

We then had some discussion which led to a three minute task of starting with the words “In the garden…” this is what I penned:

In the garden there are flowers and grass and a slide for all of the children. This is my dream, I wish I had a garden. We are fortunate in so many ways but we don’t have a garden, or ‘outdoor space’ as all these property porn type tv shows refer to it these days.
I would like a garden filled with children but I know I am blessed with the one child I have. Some people will never know the joy of hearing a child shout ‘watch me mum’ on a slide at the park so why should I lust after a garden and more children?

The next task was to use the favourite word of the person to our right, and we passed our word on. The word I was given was ‘Blackbird’, so I had to use this word to inspire me to write for three minutes:

Listen to the blackbird singing. Its tune sings summer over and over. Its real; summer is here and my eyes know that as they are blinded by the bright daffodil yellow of the sun. The sun is just rising up from spring and venturing into summer. The blackbird wants to make sure everyone knows that by singing its song. It wants you to know summer brings hope, the cold of winter is past and summer brings more than the blackbirds song.

Again we had some fab discussion about where the prompt had taken us although thankfully we were never asked to read aloud what we have written. Our next task was a little longer, five minutes I think and our prompt was to start with ‘I feel happy when…’

I feel happy when I hear my daughter laugh. Not just a quiet smile but a raucous giggle. I feel happy when my husband and I get time just to be. We don’t have a lot of money at the moment but I feel happy when this makes me realise money doesn’t buy happiness. It does pay the mortgage however and knowing that is paid makes me happy too!
I feel happy when I am reminded how loved I am and when I am held in strong arms. I feel happy when I am well. Not every day because life is not linear it has ups and downs but when I stop to appreciate what I have. I am happy but happiness can be elusive.

The next task I found very difficult. I had to imagine I was an object in a room and write as that object about an emotion I was experiencing. Write from the view point of an inanimate object? What the heck?

I can’t say I picked because it was more like my pen picked as the thoughts flowed through the ink of my biro and I found myself writing from the point of view of a clock hanging on my living room wall:

I am ticking. Tick tock tick tock tick tock. She keeps looking over, I think she thinks I am getting louder. I think I am all she can hear. She has zoned out, she looks like she stopped listening as the nurse described how poorly she had found her upon first assessing her. Tick tock tick tock tick tock.I can see her almost processing her memories, trying desperately to put them in some sort of order. I have watched her for years hung on this wall but never seen her as distant or vacant as she has been in recent weeks. She usually runs the household looking at me but now she doesn’t even shower.
Tick tock tick tock tick tock… She can’t look at me and shout ‘come on we are late’ because she no longer goes anywhere.
The nurses visit and they glance over at me too. They see her desperation and try, try so hard to give her hope but they hear my call also, tick tock tick tock. She understands though, she is a nurse too.
As the weeks go by the nurses get to know her. She is more able to talk freely and without the delay which cursed her for weeks. One day she laughs and it drowned out my voice tick tock tick tock. I wish I could tell her not to count the minutes but to count the moments.
Moments are priceless and it is moments which give happiness which is what she craves. It is that we all crave. Tick tock tick tock tick…

The next task was to imagine we were a detective walking into our own homes and making a judgement about the person who lives there. I was to write from the perspective of this detective:

This person has so much to remember, no wonder they have a white board on the back of the front door. Nurse appointments, Doctor appointments, occupational health appointments and reminders about non-uniform days and money needing to be paid for school trip, Guides trip and Sunday School trip. I move through to the living room to see photos of a happy family, the mother looks so different to the tired looking woman who let me in.
I see a bible and a Christian book beside the fire. A tired woman but a woman with faith and therefore hope lives here. I see a basket of paste eggs on the side board, all brightly coloured. Maybe the mum did these with the daughter? Maybe she is feeling a little better?
I see a pile of paperwork next to a laptop; I am well and it looks overwhelming to me so how must this mother feel looking at this?
Cards on the fireplace suggest she is loved by many and that her colleagues hope she will be back at work soon, coupled with the letter half written on the open laptop which would suggest she wants to return too.
I thought the woman had gone out but wandering through this home I hear her breathing heavily and realise she is asleep.

The final task we did was a reflective piece of writing based upon a graded visualisation the leader of the workshop read out to us:

I found this more difficult than I imagined I would. I dislike sitting with my eyes closed in a room full of people. I don’t feel comfortable with that, I don’t know why. My discomfort with this took me a little by surprise. My dislike of this task overtook my thoughts and I missed the first part of the graded visualisation task. When I re-engaged with the teachers voice I heard her describe walking through a rocky cave or cavern and my mind wandered. I found myself thinking about the 1980’s film ‘The Goonies’ and about the characters walking through the underground cave and caverns. I was waiting to hear the teacher describe an opening leading to an amazing aqua blue lagoon with a traditional wooden pirate type ship. I desperately tried to bring my mind back but I was lost in this happy memory of a thirty odd year old film. Maybe I shall try to watch it with my daughter this Easter holidays?
I heard the teacher say that through the next cave was an opening with light pouring in and a luscious green hill in front of me. I was back engaging with the exercise. The green hill was so vibrant against the pale blue with only a scattering of bright whilte clouds of the sky. I could smell the grass, not the urban smell of grass recently cut but a natural smell of grass which has grown there for centuries and which is home to all manner of creatures. Lots of creatures including the ladybird I just saw, it had four spots and was the brightest scarlet red I have ever seen. The ladybird spread its wings and flew away; maybe it didn’t like being looked at?
I was stood still breathing in deep lungfuls of country air and feeling quite blessed by the absolute glory of God’s creation when I heard the teacher remind us this was an exercise and bring us back in the room.

It was time to go home.

I have never done anything like this before so these short writing tasks were a totally new experience for me. Whether it is any good or not I shall leave to the readers but I did enjoy it and I shall absolutely book on another workshop of writing for well being, it really got my brain ticking over in a way it haven’t for so many months whilst I’ve been ill.
Anyway I have typed this as it was hand written quickly in 3 minute bursts so feel free to ask if anything doesn’t make sense.

I really recommend the Writing for Wellbeing workshops Laura does… check out her website: 


Circus Skills… CPN Life.


Oh my word by anyone’s standards 2016 has been difficult for me in so many ways with family illness then subsequent bereavement with one of those family members, our ongoing infertility issues, a cancer scare and a change of job with pressures which have left me questioning my own capabilities daily. I feel like I have spent months walking a tight rope with my own mental well being. I have written recently about how I have felt here

I’m a mental health nurse, not a circus acrobat, so walking an emotional tight rope has felt dangerous. I have stumbled and nearly fallen on so many occasions, arms outstretched with a wobble and a dance the one we all do until just at the last moment we correct out footing and just about manage to prevent the fall. My colleagues and I are all mental health professionals; nurses, psychiatrists, psychologists and social workers to name but a few and whilst we are acutely aware our own well being and that of each other what we aren’t overly good at is being kind to ourselves and looking after our own well being, we are for each other but rely on coffee and a couple of custard creams so sustain ourselves. Turns out that is not enough. Continue reading

The leaves are falling…

I look out of the office window as I write up my notes from the five service users I have seen that day, knowing I won’t get finished and that I will start tomorrow already behind. I look out of the window at the tree lined residential street where our team is based and note the blast of autumn in the colours on the trees. I feel sure they were still green last week but maybe I just didn’t notice? 

I do remember being shocked by the drop in temperature earlier this week as I went directly from air conditioning in the car to heating. No in between, all or nothing. That’s kind of how I feel about my job, it’s a love hate relationship. I love nursing but I hate what it is doing to me. 

I look at those changing shades on the trees outside my office with a sense of achievement. I survived another season. The trees were bare of leaves last winter when I moved to this role, then they blossomed a beautiful pink and white ‘snow’ which covered the road like God’s confetti. Those same trees have provided a stunning green contrast against the blue of the summer skies and now they are sporting all the reds, oranges and bronzes of autumn. Soon they will fall and the circle will be complete, the branches will be as bare as the day I first looked out of that window. 

Each change in colour is a sign I have survived a little bit longer when I thought I couldn’t possibly, my track record for survival therefore is pretty good. Winter is bleak though, the leaves fall and the branches look harsh and sharp against the low seasonal sun. The energy of the summer sun in providing the green of the leaves is gone and the tree is exhausted. I, like the trees, am exhausted. 

I am desperate for spring already, I yearn for my leaves to grow again and yet I wonder whether I will survive winter. 

Choose Life… (Trigger Warning – Suicide)



The night I tried to end my own life I was as calm as I had ever felt, I was sure that taking my own life was my only option. I had a new baby, a great husband, a well paid job and a home in a lovely village lined with blossom trees. You get where I am going with this? Suicidal thoughts are often, not exclusively, but often a symptom of mental illness and mental illness does not discriminate, it can affect anyone at any time. It affected me and it nearly cost me my life, my daughter her mother and my husband his wife. Continue reading

Waiting for the rain to fall…

I weep in the shower so no one will see my tears fall,

I scream silently so as not to make people feel uncomfortable,

I smile broadly when people ask how many children I have and I reply “just one beautiful daughter”

I cry when I chop onions and I cry when the wind blows against my face. I cry when no one will ask me why. 
I watch our daughter blossom and smile at the young lady she is becoming,

She doesn’t see my tears in the swimming pool as she says “watch me mum” knowing she won’t seek my approval for much longer.

Once again my tears are hidden by the water, yesterday the shower and today the swimming pool. I have enough love in my heart to have two children shout “watch me mum”, I can’t bear this being how the story ends in my journey of motherhood. 
My smile when I talk about my daughter is so genuine but my eyes remain sad. My eyes tell the story of a journey of motherhood different to the one I always anticipated I would have. 
I envisaged a big table with several children all doing their homework whilst I stood chatting asking them about their school day and cooking something nourishing for their dinner. 
Making the decision to have another child after such serious postnatal depression that left me hospitalised for 5 months last time was huge for us as a couple. We made the decision then decided I must complete my nursing degree first and establish my career again. So long before we were trying, which seems like forever now, we were planning therefore in the years since we made the choice we always anticipated our desire to have a baby would come to fruition quickly. We had an appointment with a perinatal psychiatrist a year ago now and formulated a plan which we anticipated we’d need before long, it hadn’t entered our head we might still be waiting. 

Some women are not as fortunate as me, some women will never answer “yes one beautiful daughter” and I can only imagine the torment they feel. I don’t feel worthy of the tears that fall when I remember the blessing of our daughter. God blessed me with a daughter and my tears are disrespectful. My tears show I don’t trust His plan for my life. 
I pray that one day I will hold another babe in my arms, the thought of not becoming a mum again is too much to bear. We haven’t planned anything this year, no holidays, no weekends away, I didn’t even enter the Great North Run. Why? Because we assumed I’d either be poorly with sickness (I had hyperemesis last time) or that I’d be hugely pregnant and not up to going far. Neither are true and yet our lives are still on hold. 
Each month it gets harder, each month I stand in the rain to disguise my tears for a little bit longer and peel a few more onions. Next time you go to make small talk and ask someone if they ever thought about having another baby or indeed whether they want children at all; don’t. Please don’t. It’s the hardest lie in the world to retain ones composure when waiting for the rain to fall. Hold my hand and stand with me in the rain please. 

Being patient being the patient… 

I offer a disingenuous smile as I accept directions from the nursing assistant to the xray department in our local hospital. I smile to stop tears from falling as I am so afraid. I found the lump in my breast on the bank holiday weekend we had at the end of last month so it was a few days before I could see my GP. I kept telling myself that it was ok and felt sure that my GP would say it was nothing, just fibrous tissue maybe?

My GP was lovely and smiled kindly as she said that usually at my age she would ask me to return in a couple of weeks at a different point in my cycle but that my new found lump was ‘so significant’ she didn’t want to wait and that she would refer me to our local hospital. My ears pricked up at that point when I heard her tell me that she was referring me on the two week pathway. I knew what she meant, she hadn’t said the words but I heard her questioning breast cancer loud and clear. 

I am a nurse, I’m used to examining the evidence base of my actions therefore that’s what I did with the help of Google when I got home. So now full possession of the evidence would tell me that statistically I am in a really low risk group for breast cancer, that most lumps in women my age are harmless but I could still close my eyes and see visions of my daughters graduation and her wedding day without me in it. 

My appointment came through in the post within a couple of days and as per the pathway was within two weeks of seeing my GP. 

As luck would have it, and I say that in the loosest sense of the word, we had a CQC inspection at work during those two weeks so I was left with little time to think about the lump and the implications which could come with that. 

My husband took the morning off work to come with me and my boss told me to take as much time as I needed today and not to rush back to the office, I had told a few friends and they text me to tell me they were thinking about me and praying for me. They reminded me my strength is always in Christ which never fails to make me feel stronger to face whatever challenge life throws at me. 

I arrived for my appointment and was seen by a consultant and a nurse who asked me about family history and my own medical history. The consultant then examined me, he agreed he could feel a lump so gave me a slip of paper to take to another department where I was to have a mammogram and an ultrasound scan. He spoke warmly with a reassuring tone in his voice which was exactly what I needed to hear at that moment. I attended for my mammogram first and realised in the small room how alone and how vulnerable I felt. As I undressed I was struck by how naked I felt, not just physically but emotionally. The radiographer sensed my nerves and talked me through the procedure. She asked me to sign a form to confirm I wasn’t pregnant and as we have been trying to become pregnant for a year now this stung more than a little as I signed to confirm not. The harsh clamp of the mammogram made me hold my breath, I wondered in those seconds whether I would ever breathe again. I felt like I was drowning, not in water but in a lust for life I was terrified I wouldn’t get to experience. I was drowning in moments I found myself wondering if I would maybe never have. 

I was then returned to my husband who knowingly squeezed my hand, we have seen off worse challenges than this as a couple. His hand squeeze told me it would be ok whatever the result. After a short wait I was called through to ultra sound where again I was asked to remove my clothes and felt so painfully vulnerable again. The consultant radiographer and her assistant were both wonderful putting me at ease, they talked me through what could have been a deeply dehumanising process whilst ensuring my dignity at all times. As I lay on my back in the ultrasound room I felt a lone tear roll down the side of my face, the emotions of the day beginning to escape without my permission. The radiographer noticed and offered a caring smile, I explained how long we had been trying to conceive and how I had envisaged being in an ultrasound room for such a different reason this year. I hide my disappointment over that behind a smile daily as people as questions such as how many children I have. I scream silently and try never to show that emotion other than to a select couple of people yet today it spilled out of my eyes and I told a complete stranger in the radiographer. 

Back to the clinic I went clutching an envelope which I knew sealed my fate, she she passed it to me the nurse said to use the walk back round to think of any questions and to use the time with the consultant to clear my mind of any worries so I can go home with less weight on my shoulders. Good advice I thought. It’s a strange thing to be the patient when so often I am the nurse, it’s a good reminder how the small comments of care and compassion make such a difference to a patients journey. I shall think on that this week as I plan the care I deliver. 

Waiting to be called back in to see the consultant my heart was beating so hard I thought my rib cage was at risk of bursting. What if it was bad news?

I suspect the consultant is an incredible poker player because I scanned his face for clues as we entered the room but nothing was disclosed by his face. He quickly told me that he had seen nothing sinister on the scan or the mammogram but as he can feel a lump he would like to do a needle biopsy. I have a blood clotting disorder so a needle biopsy would need clotting factor treatment beforehand therefore given the probability of risk after seeing the scans etc we decided to wait a few weeks and see if the lump disseminates on its own or if it is still there in 8 weeks when he has asked me to return to clinic he will do a biopsy then. 

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, my heart was going almost as fast as my brain which has been like a hamster wheel for the past week. I headed to work almost on automatic pilot, trying to process the morning. I felt such relief at what he had told me but with a much reduced but still evident sense of foreboding at the fact he may still do the biopsy in 8 weeks if the lump is still there. 

I usually do well to mask my emotions from the world so today was difficult for me to admit my vulnerability. The nursing and medical staff were to be highly commended for putting me at ease, for making a difficult day a little easier. As I reflect upon today I an reminded how frightening being the patient can be. Being a patient today will influence the nurse I am tomorrow with the care I deliver. Those who cared for me today personified the values we all aspire to hold in the NHS, I hope I do that for others. I’m so tired now yet my brain won’t switch off. Hopefully I will rest soon. Good night folks. Xx

My thoughts on The Stanford Uni case…

It has been a while since I blogged but the Stanford University case has left me angry and utterly bereft at rape culture in western society in equal measure so I felt I needed to write about this. I read the impact statement written and read bravely aloud by the victim of Brock Turner with tears in my eyes, the hash reality of her words mirroring the harsh reality of rape. The violation of sexual assault does not deserve flowery verbiage, when she described how “You do not know me yet you have been inside of me” this is a line so many women will have read and related to, even more will have related to yet and yet will have known their attackers.

I’m sure we all remember that famous front page of the Independent newspaper in the UK a few years ago showing the stark difference between the number of rapes which occur, the number who report their rape, those who get as far as court and then the pitifully low number who get a conviction. What that incredibly shocking front page didn’t go as far as to show was for those very few who succeed in conviction following prosecution how poor the sentences imposed often are. It answers the age old question as to why so few women report rape.

The outcry at Brock Turner only being sentenced to six months imprisonment in all honesty would have probably gone unnoticed were it not for the callous remarks made by the judge passing the sentence. Judge Persky shared his concern that a longer sentence could have a “severe impact” upon the life of the young athlete turned rapist. As someone who has experienced rape, albeit not stranger rape, I can assure you Judge Persky that his actions DID have a severe impact however they had that impact on his victim. The impact on Brock Turner has a different name altogether, that name is Consequences!

Next to step in to this by now infamous case discussion was Brock Turner’s father who could have chosen to stay silent out of respect for his son’s victim or even given commentary that he stood by his son but that he recognised he needed to be punished. He didn’t choose either of those options, he chose instead to try to shame his son’s victim again by stating that in his opinion “20 minutes of action” shouldn’t ruin his son’s life. One doesn’t have to look far to realise where Brock Turner got his morals and sense of entitlement. His son’s “20 minutes of action” will have life long implications for his victim, she may heal well but his actions will still catch her off guard on occasion; she may find herself seeing his face instead of her husbands when making love or the pain he caused her physically may return during an intimate examination or may intrude on what should be her perfect experience of childbirth. His “20 minutes of action” will be with her for life.

Brock Turner was found guilty and his victim should have been comforted that he was being punished for his crime, no custodial sentence would ever compare to the life sentence she was awarded on that January night. No prison sentence will ever restore her dignity or her mindset. She can and hopefully will heal emotionally as well as physically however she will forever see the world through tinted glasses. Her vision tinted, tainted even, with the violation of that night.

Actions have consequences and no mitigation offered by Turner such as his blaming of “peer pressure”, “party culture” and “drinking” make him any less culpable for his crime. Although rape culture in western society does take all of these things into account, if it didn’t he would have been sent to prison for far longer. If it didn’t then he may never have felt that his behaviour was acceptable and never have acted this way. It seems that although both Turner and his victim were intoxicated his intoxication is deemed to offer mitigation for his actions yet her intoxication have society questioning if she brought this upon herself.

Let me be very clear here alcohol does not make people rape or indeed make people get raped. Rapists cause rape. Not difficult as a concept is it?

In the same way short skirts or walking home alone or even a premiscuous past do not cause rape. One thing causes rape; Rapists. Brock Turner has released a statement sayig he wishes to educate his peers on the dangers of drinking excess alcohol, here’s an idea – educate them on consent!!! It’s simple really if someone doesn’t say yes then that is a no. If they say no, struggle or are even simply unconscious and unable to consent then this is rape.

As a society we teach our daughters how not to get raped, we tell them not to wear certain things and not to walk home alone late at night but we don’t teach our son’s not to rape. We talk about the dangers of alcohol and drugs but not about consent. Does it make you uncomfortable? Maybe it should! Rape is an uncomfortable subject and a life changing experience. Brock Turner has talked about a culture of promiscuity, I have not heard anyone refer to forcibly penetrating someone with a foreign object as promiscuity, just rape.

The victim in this case has said she has chosen to remain anonymous because “I am every woman” well “I am every woman” too and so are some of my friends and we stand along side her. We stand together to raise each other up when one of us doesn’t have the strength in our legs to hold us up. We stand together to challenge rape culture. We stand together to say victim blaming is not acceptable. We must ultimately teach our son’s not to rape and not simply rely on teaching our daughters to wear longer skirts.

Micro Managing

I consider myself blessed to have been able to remain mentally well without medication for while now but this doesn’t mean it’s all plain sailing. There are blips. Last week was a ‘near blip’ and although upon reflection it was a bit of a worry it is also a boost to my confidence that I was able to manage it. Now please don’t mistake the message in this blog, I am not anti medication; absolutely not, at times medication has been absolutely necessary and has saved my life, in fact Thursday evening last week it was medication which helped me avoid a bigger blip. This blog post is about me explaining how I manage on a day to day basis to stay well (or well-ish!), I know it likely won’t always be like that but I also know from experience that the correct medication works really well for me to aid my journey to remission.

Looking back on last week I am able to see how I caught my mood in the absolute nick of time and that even one day later and I may not have been able to recognise how damaging the effects could be. Let me put into context how I think I came close to a blip… Two weeks ago I worked Tuesday through to Friday which were busy in the way an acute ward is the always busy but actually were lovely shifts where I felt good about the amount of time I actually got to spend with patients that week. I was asked to do some overtime on the Saturday which is something I deliberately rarely do as I am very aware of my need for rest days with low stimulation but was swayed by the thought of weekend enhancement plus overtime rate so agreed. Continue reading

Self Worth

Self worth is a difficult thing to quantify, it is not defined by the possessions we have around us or even by the love others feel for us. I know this as I am loved beyond measure and have everything in a material sense that I actually need and yet most days I feel like a stain on society. To those looking from the outside I have it all, a nice home in an affluent area, a good husband and a wonderfully spirited little girl. I have a new career which I love and which affords me the opportunity to enjoy time with my loved ones but I worry every day that I don’t deserve this life. Let me start by saying how settled my mood is, I am not experiencing any symptomology of depression despite how negative some of this blog post may seem. My self esteem has been better than this and I hope this will once again be achievable. Self depreciation has always been my default setting but throughout my life I have had periods of being better able to challenge this. Right now I am struggling with this. Continue reading

Broken Vases…

Last year I published a blog post about my thoughts on the Rotherham report, I received some very kind feedback but also some heart wrenching disclosures from people about their own experiences. One person telling me that I was the first person she had ever told about what she had endured. That blog post was written in anger and not even proof read, I just knew I needed to get it out of my head via my laptop before I would be afforded the luxury of sleep that night. Continue reading

Another chance

So I graduated yesterday, I wore my cap and gown feeling so incredibly proud. Not necessarily because I got a degree but because of what that degree stands for. My BSc Honours in Mental Health Nursing means I get to register as a nurse and do a job I love every day and this means so much more than the qualification itself. It means even more than this to me though, it means society has given me another chance, having already lost a career and a business to my own mental health difficulties this made my graduation yesterday especially poignant.

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Celebrate Recovery – A reflection

You may remember I blogged a while ago about starting to attend a group at church called ‘Celebrate Recovery’. It’s a Christ focussed twelve step programme which helps people with their hurts, habits and hang ups. You can find more details about Celebrate Recovery and whether it runs in your area from the link at the end of this blog. A standard introduction at celebrate recovery is “Hi my name is… , I am a Christian and I am in recovery from…” Which seems simple or so you’d think. Not to me it seems who over analyses everything I say and do. As a nurse I pride myself on being a reflective practitioner, which is a vital part of nursing, yet can’t help but berate myself for taking this too far and obsessing over my inadequacies. I have managed to skirt the introduction thing thus far and it has been without issue but tonight I was asked if I would be willing to read out the beatitudes which would involve an introduction in front of the whole group. I was happy to read out the beatitudes but quickly had a moment of realisation that I didn’t know what to say in my introduction. I could have confidently said I am in recovery from mental illness or childhood sexual abuse or even promiscuity if I go far enough back but however true those statements are they do not reflect why I am attending CR.

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Playing the swan…

The transition from student nurse to registrant is something I spent the final furlong of my nursing degree preparing for however nothing could have prepared me for that day when I introduced my self as a staff nurse.

My main concern is that the person I say “hello my name is Claire and I am your staff nurse” to has no idea whether I have been qualified for ten minutes or ten years and as they don’t know this they have high expectations of me. I worry all the time that I won’t be able to meet those expectations but I’m conscious to try to never show that worry as whether a patient or a family member they need to have faith in their nurse. The people I come into contact with must feel able to have confidence in my knowledge and ability and hopefully one day I may share that confidence!

By the end of my degree I was a fairly confident student who trusted my knowledge base and my skill set so have been surprised how this has changed and my internal monologue runs a mantra of ‘am I good enough?’
I question everything I do ten fold and I haven’t even take responsibility for meds rounds yet so goodness knows what I will feel like then! The feelings that registering with the NMC and its associated accountability generate are quite phenomenal.

I receive positive feedback from patients and from their families which is great as I am able to recognise that maybe I’m not the incompetent fool I manage convince myself I am. Staff on the ward are great too, they offer informal supervision each time I shout ‘help’ in a slightly hysterical tone in the nursing office, guiding me with their experience and nurturing my newness.

My first staff nurse job is on the ward where I did my management placement so I am fortunate to know the team well enough to lean on them when I need to and for them to pick me up when they recognise me struggling. The NHS trust I work for has a comprehensive, year long, preceptorship scheme so I know I am supported amazingly well as I fumble my way through my first year as a qualified mental health nurse. My preceptor is an experienced band six nurse who offers me reassurance and her experience as I need it with her also offering challenges of which she believes I am capable knowing it will boost my confidence when I achieve what she has asked of me.

Each time I think I am moving forward a new experience sets me another challenge to get through and my anxiety levels reduce a little when I achieve it. When I first started I was lucky if I slept for a couple of hours the night before a long shift but this has settled somewhat thank goodness!
A couple of weeks into the job and an incident knocked my confidence it left me wondering if I was capable of nursing at all, I dwelled upon it and worried to obscene and totally unnecessary levels making myself nauseous with anxiety but I can look back and realise that this will be the first of many situations which will come up over my career leaving me wondering ‘what if’. What if doesn’t have to be a negative thing if learning comes from it.
Throughout university we were encouraged to reflect and I would describe myself as a reflective practitioner as this is something I now do without hesitation however if anything I need to practice reflection without always being critical of myself something I am unconsciously prone to doing. I reflect daily as I make my 1.5 hour journey home from work and can sometimes have convinced myself I’m incompetent before I even leave the car park! I think those I work with would be shocked to hear how nervous I feel at the moment as I do my best to ensure for the most part that I at least look like I know what I’m doing!

Yesterday I was given positive feedback about how I handled a situation which escalated quickly and how I remained calm which was great to hear however I struggled to receive that praise, she pointed out that I had deflected back to debriefing over what had happened rather than simply accepting the praise. I wasn’t even aware I had done that until she pointed it out. I used to be able to graciously accept praise when it was offered and have no idea why I have lost this ability over recent years.
I lost so much to my own experience of mental illness, I lost my last career then I lost my business so I struggle to accept that this career which I have worked so hard for will not be taken in a heart beat also. I have a fear roaring away in the pit of my stomach which I hope will disappear eventually. Everyone assures me that as a new nurse a level of anxiety is normal and that I will not feel like this forever so I hope that one day I will just suddenly have a moment of awareness that I am no longer afraid and that I feel confident in my decision making. My preceptor who is very supportive is also very perceptive and I think she has begun to realise that I am playing the swan; gliding along gracefully on the surface and paddling away in a permanent state of utter panic underneath. She gave me a piece of advice that just about everything can wait so I should pause and take a moment if I find myself caught up in the hustle and bustle of the ward. An acute ward is a fast paced environment where decisions often seem to need making quickly but her words gave me the permission I need to tell myself it’s ok to wait a minute and take stock. Better to make the right decision than one I make in haste and regret later. I think this is a piece of advice I will value for years to come.
Today I co-ordinated the whole shift from 7.30am until 8.30pm and other than a couple of small oversights like writing the staffing allocations on the board in the main ward area for example I did ok. Some tasks I did came naturally and others felt more forced but the one thing I do feel confident in is that the patients and for the most part the staff did not register my nerves. Today felt like an achievement, a significant moment in my nursing career as a whole day’s co-ordination went without major issue, there were hic ups but then it’s an acute mental health ward so that is to be expected when nursing 16 very unwell people. Some people even had a good day, a board game mid afternoon generated laughter and friendship amongst ladies thrown together in illness.

The over arching thing I have learned since qualifying is how much I love being a nurse and how blessed I am to be doing a job I love in a team many of whom I class as friends as well as colleagues.
It’s terrifying and humbling in equal measure but it’s the best thing I ever did and I hope I will have a long, happy nursing career over the coming decades.


Self Sabotage

So this is more of a brain fart than a blog post, a bit of a diary entry marking the start of an important change in my life. I hope so anyway.
I spent my late teens and early twenties losing and gaining weight at a rapid pace, sometimes having gone between where a size eight hung off my frame and where a size eighteen was stretched across my vastness, I would sometimes go between these two extremes up to twice each year sometimes maintaining a ‘normal’ size for a few months but mainly expanding or decreasing with only my subconscious aware of why I was doing this.

My body was younger so could take the abuse I threw at it in the form of bulimia or periods of restriction and excessive exercise but when I became pregnant eight years ago I knew that I could not pass my issues on to my child. Ironically I developed hyperemesis gravadarium and vomited between 25-30 times each day for my entire pregnancy but thankfully I managed to kick the habit not having using my previous behaviours since having our daughter in 2006.

Whether coincidence or not but when I gave up my coping tool I experienced a depression severe enough to have hospitalised me. I had experienced mood episodes prior to this but not to this intensity. Since this period of severe depression and another one a few years after that with treatment from medication which added to my weight gain and an inability to leave the house due to fear and anxiety my weight crept up and up. I am able to remain light hearted publicly re my weight but I feel repulsive alone. I am repulsed by my own reflection which is a huge shame as I have reached a point in my life where I actually like me as a person!

Over recent years I have tried a couple of times to lose the excess weight and for a while I do well, loosing a stone or two each time hindsight has taught me that this is the point when I seem to self sabotage. As soon as I get to the stage whereby friends and family begin to notice and complement me I struggle to accept that and my weight goes back on.

I consider myself to be quite an insightful and self aware person so when I looked back over and realised this was a pattern I was forming I began to explore why this may be the case and wonder what I could do to travel beyond this stage. That is when my epiphany took place and I realised I wear my weight like a mask. I use it to try and hide my emotions and to protect myself. I ought to explain that when I say protect myself I think that goes back further than me sabotaging my dieting efforts right back to my early life experiences. I think a psychoanalyst would have a field day with my theory here that my weight is there to shield me from unwanted attention, the sort of unwanted attention which shaped my early life in such a negative way. 

Now that I have realised where my weakness lies and how I self sabotage my attempts to lose weight and gain control over this one aspect of my life which remains out of reach I feel I owe myself the time and attention to concentrate my efforts on changing this. I am worthy of self acceptance over self sabotage and I will lose this weight.

In the past four weeks I have lost a stone in weight so know that soon I will reach my vulnerable time so must keep this self awareness at the fore and refuse to acknowledge the self depreciating thought patterns I am familiar with. I know everyone deals with things in differing ways but for me I plan on using a combination of self awareness and faith to hopefully succeed this time where I have failed before. I am joining a year long programme with church called ‘Celebrate Recovery’ some of you may have heard of this programme and I’d love to hear success stories if any of you have used it as a guide. If you haven’t heard of it then google it, it is a programme to help people work beyond their hurts, hang ups and habits and learn skills to aid them with this in the long term.
The programme covers everything from addiction, relationships, self harm, self esteem to weight management and even hurts from past abuse so I feel hopeful that it will help me.

I would never have had the confidence to go alone to this group but a chance conversation with a dear friend about our individual battles with our weight was what led me to my moment of realisation as we discovered that we both struggle with our weight for the same reason and vowed to support each other on this journey. So on Monday we will both go to our celebrate recovery group and we hope that this will be our final journey of weight loss. It was a chance conversation which led us to realise that this is why we hold on to our weight when we hate it so much, I wonder how many other women this is relevant to. I will likely share my weight loss with you via this blog and twitter and hopefully will make it beyond the point I usually get to… wish me luck!

Rotherham Report – My Thoughts

Trigger Warning – This post discusses childhood sexual abuse using language which some people may find deeply upsetting so please consider this before you continue reading. Helpline details are given at the bottom of this post should you read it then find you feel vulnerable.


The news of the Rotherham Report has deeply saddened me but I’m afraid not surprised me. Childhood sexual abuse is something which goes on in the undercurrent of our society, in your street and in mine every day, but this is something society chooses to erase from its consciousness. Society does not feel comfortable talking about something so abhorrent. It is something the vast majority of people are appalled by, appalled by the repeated news articles, written daily, outlining the prevalence of this in
our modern, so called, civilised nation.

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A new era in mental health inpatient care…

I was invited to visit and have a look around my local trusts new mental health hospital but it got me to thinking of my first ever impression of a mental health hospital was being driven up the hill to a brand new build where I was to be admitted but passing the derelict red brick asylum buildings with their imposing shadow and being terrified of what was to greet me at the brow of the hill. As it was to turn out the hospital where I was to stay was state of the art and had only opened mere months before I arrived but I will never forget my fear at the fenced off terror I imagined behind the overgrown shrubbery.

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My Journey…

I gave a talk tonight at the Annual Members Meeting of the Mental Health trust for which I am a governor, my talk was about my journey of recovery and what it meant to me as I made the transition from service user to staff nurse, the words that follow are what I read:

My first contact with mental health services was in 2007 following the birth of my daughter, Eve. After she was born I knew straight away that I didn’t feel right. I spent the first five weeks after she was born racing around, I decorated my entire flat and held a dinner party every night for three weeks! When my daughter was five weeks old depression hit me like a shovel in the face, I didn’t just slow down, I stopped. Continue reading

Lived experience?

The issue of self disclosure in mental health setting is a controversial one and one to which I have given much thought. As I have blogged about previously I am a mental health professional who has lived experience of mental illness and the stigma which comes along with that. Continue reading

Happy Fathers Day!!!


So you’d have to be walking around in a bubble to have failed to notice all the father’s day posts across social media today, my facebook and twitter feed have been full of posts varying from those who are expressing their thanks and love felt towards their father to those saying how much they miss their now passed father. Lots of other variations were added to the mix too including the fathers who have posted how much their miss their children who their ex partner refuses to allow them access to and then the single mums posting how they do the job of both parents. All very valid and appropriate points to make. Continue reading

Recovery is a Process not a model


You may have noticed my tweets recently asking about whether your local mental health NHS trust has a recovery strategy or recovery policy statement in place. I’m asking because I am part of a working group within my local trust considering this but it has got me thinking when I have had lots of retweets but not one person has been able to confidently reply and say that their trust has one in place.

So maybe I ought to start by asking myself what recovery is? I’m a third year student mental health nurse so often hear people talk about working with a ‘recovery model’ but I dispute this; recovery is not a model it is a process. Continue reading

Nearly a statistic; Postnatal depression


Trigger Warning re childhood abuse/birth trauma/suicide

I have been involved with a piece of work with the midwifery education school at my local university, the same one incidentally I am due to graduate from this summer with a BSc Hons Mental Health Nursing although this is totally separate to my academic studies.
What started as an email saying ‘you’ve talked about having had postnatal depression haven’t you?’ has evolved over the past 14 months into something I am exceptionally proud of. The email was from someone I have come into contact with in a service user voice worker capacity and on behalf of a senior midwifery lecturer at the uni, we agreed to meet for a coffee in December 2012 to discuss what was being asked and how it could work. Continue reading

Tightening the student belt..


I knew that financially being a student again was going to be tough, I had been a student before I knew that there was always likely to be more month left at the end of the money than the other way around. Nothing prepared me for the hardship and sacrifices this past three years have brought us. Continue reading

Coastal therapy anyone?


I was sat at home preparing a presentation I have to give tomorrow at university dipping custard creams in my coffee and wondering whether I could provide myself with sufficient excuse to not go to bootcamp class tonight. It’s only my excuse for me, it’s only me I need to justify it to but still it needs to be a good reason or I’d have to force myself to go.
My brain was dulled and my eyes sore from staring at the laptop screen so I decided I needed some fresh air. I needed to blow the cobwebs away and the gale force wind out here has certainly done that! Continue reading

The 6 C’s of being a Student Nurse


All student nurses you will be familiar with the 6 C’s, the areas which the Francis report said nursing should concentrate upon. To be able to look after others though us student nurses must treat ourselves with those same 6 C’s that we afford our patients. This blog post is about how we can use those aspects of nursing we practice for others daily to get ourselves through the three gruelling years of nurse training. Continue reading

Last lap now…


On the marathon that is a BSc Hons in Mental Health Nursing I am running the last lap, the final furlong, the sprint finish. Whatever you care to call it, THIS year I will be qualified as a Registered Mental Health Nurse. A handful of assignments, a presentation and a dissertation stand between me and that goal. I have a few weeks left in lectures to absorb the last bits of theory then an extended placement for about four and a half months known as the ‘management’ placement. Continue reading

2013; The good, the bad and the ugly


The end of a year encourages us all to reflect upon how the year treated us and I am no different. 2013 has like any year that has gone before it seen highs and lows (although neither to an extreme in my mood thank goodness!!!), over all it was a good year, stable and steady. Continue reading

Nature or Nurture?


I have just watched the Kerry Katona documentary on catch up for Channel 5, it’s called ‘My Secret Past’ and is worth a watch. I have long believed that my battle with mental illness is a combination of the two, that I have a genetic predisposition but that trauma I experienced during my childhood triggered it off. I guess it’s no different to someone having a genetic predisposition to heart disease but whether that person eats a fry up for breakfast then sits on their backside everyday makes a difference to whether they trigger those heart problems off or not.

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Medication reduction…


had an appointment today with my GP who is exceptionally supportive with my mental health. I know at times she has been as frustrated as I have been with secondary mental health services on my behalf. To have the support of someone who truly believes in the concept of recovery is vital to achieve mental well being. My appointment was booked several weeks ago to discuss my next drop in dose of my Venlafaxine. Continue reading

Letter to my younger self…

Ten things I wish I could tell my younger self:

1. To always have hope. Through both mental illness and via situations I have faced I’ve felt hopeless at times in my life. I can’t necessarily change how I think or feel when in the grips of mental illness but I can change how I deal with situations that life will invariably throw at me in the future. I have ‘Dum vita est spes est’ tattooed around my ribs which means whilst there is life there is hope in Latin. I truly believe that no matter how utterly hopeless you may feel at any given moment if you just keep on going moment by moment it can get better. So no matter how low one feels it is important never to take a permanent action to solve a temporary feeling. Continue reading

An open letter to Metro:

Tyne and Wear Metro have launched a new video to encourage safety when using their service. Sounds fine in theory until you hear their naive use of highly stigmatising language.
They used the word ‘insane’ in the context of a persons stupidity which is simply offensive.
This is the email I sent after they refused to discuss this further publicly on twitter. I will post their response if and when I receive it. Continue reading

It’s beginning to feel a lot like Christmas…

Christmas; the most wonderful time of the year? Or is it?
Not for everyone it isn’t. Three years ago I spent Christmas in a psychiatric ward away from my husband and daughter and that will always be at the back of my mind as the shops begin to fill with glitter and the TV adverts show perfect family Christmas’.

I can tell myself I ‘forgive me’ for missing that Christmas with my daughter and build lots of new happier memories in the years since then. What’s not to forgive? I was ill. Continue reading

“Gosh aren’t you getting tall?”

Yesterday was my daughters seventh birthday party and although I knew I was stressed trying to arrange it along with working full time and writing university assignments nothing prepared me for the reaction that this party provoked in me yesterday. Continue reading

Cost per use reduced…

Today I feel lighter. I feel like the honesty I entrusted upon someone today was the right thing to do.

Being open today also reduced my cost per use of the phrase “I’m no longer ashamed about my past” as that cost me around £4000 in therapy to be able to say out loud!!! Continue reading

Sickening stigma

Mental health stigma is not a new issue. What is new is how blatant it seems to have become of late.
Over recent months supermarkets Asda and Tesco both sold costumes for Halloween depicting the popular press’ vision of what a they believe a ‘mental patient’ looks like. The response to this on social media was phenomenal with lots of us within the service user movement posting pictures of ourselves on twitter showing that ‘This is what a mental patient looks like’, showing how fabulously boringly normal we all are.
Power to the people prevailed and the supermarkets withdrew these appallingly named costumes from sale. Continue reading

Happy Campers

Well another summer over and another family camping holiday had, good cheap family fun.
The very first time we went camping as a family I had to really persuade my husband to try it, he had no desire to leave his home comforts.
I had been unwell with a severe depression, been hospitalised for several months and during that time some dear friends had a collection to send flowers. They sent some gorgeous flowers but realised they had around £100 left and decided to buy me some leisure vouchers so we could do something nice as a family once I recovered. The leisure vouchers could be spent on a day at a theme park, or an over night stay in a hotel or at a small selection of retailers. One shop had an offer on a camping starter set including a tent and with that those friends have us the most amazing gift ever, the gift of memories being made for years to come.
We bought that tent set and never looked back, we have added to the kit we take over the last couple of years.
Once the tent is pitched and I sit in my folding chair admiring my hard work I literally feel my mental health improve. In the same way a dose of Valium can be felt lifting anxiety I can feel my body letting out a sigh in relief of the opportunity to regenerate with relaxation.
The flowers those friends bought were beautiful and yet the years of memory making that the tent the paid for has given us is priceless really.


A few people have asked me to write about my experiences of having had ECT or Electro Convulsive Therapy. I don’t mind as I feel there are a lot of myths to dispel around this, in my humble opinion, amazing treatment.

Several things about ECT are controversial, one of the main things being no one is exactly sure how or why it works! It was explained to me in simplistic terms that if a computer crashed the first thing most of us would do would be to turn it off and back on, reboot it. If we think of our brain as a computer and with mental illness it ‘crashes’ then ECT reboots it. I liked that explanation, it makes it seem logical somehow. Continue reading

Things that make me smile :)

I like books, the kindle may be ‘handy’ but it doesn’t smell like a book. I love buskers, they make me smile when the sky is grey and the commute is overcrowded. I love burlesque, those ladies know they are sexy and flaunt that; if God had meant boobs to stay still he wouldn’t have made them jiggly 😉 Just wish I had the confidence to jiggle my stuff without causing an earthquake… If I had to pick a favourite animal it would be the unicorn… Of course they exist! Or possibly the sloth, the main cause of death for sloth’s is them grabbing onto their own arm thinking it was a tree branch and falling to their death; who couldn’t love a creature THAT stooooopid?!?! Continue reading

Happy Pills?

I am often left wondering, based upon my own experiences, if those who prescribe medication realise the impact on a patients life that the medication has. I imagine they feel pleased if the medications treats the original symptoms or disappointed if it doesn’t but should accepting another illness in its place be classified as a success? By that I mean that it is such a fine balance to relieve the original symptoms whilst not creating side effects which can be an illness in themselves. Continue reading

Was Larkin right?

Did Phillip Larkin have it covered when he penned his famous poem which was entitled ‘They fuck you up your mum and dad’?
I know that my own father emigrating and sending me a post card to say he had moved and my mother choosing her emotionally abusive husband over her child who was already vulnerable did have a profound impact upon my adult life but I feel comfortable that I have processed the emotions linked to my own childhood. I have enough insight to know that whether someone has the seemingly perfect childhood or if someone has some dreadful experiences those experiences all help us from the person we become. Continue reading

Stop the Victim Blaming!

64166_10151526939649417_996056550_nToday April 3rd 2013 is International day against Victim Blaming. I have posted this on my social media accounts today and been amazed by the responses I have received, in both a positive and negative way. Continue reading

Is a mental health diagnosis a modern day equivalent of a straight jacket?

27521_103617956343859_280_nIs a mental health diagnosis a modern day equivalent of a straight jacket? I began to wonder this after a few conversations recently where the subject has come around to the different way people react to a person once they discover a diagnosis of mental illness. Continue reading

Whilst there is life there is hope…

A few people have said to me that I should write down my life story, until now I have discounted their suggestion as I could not see a reason other than fascination why anyone would want to read about me. I now realise however that I have something wonderful to offer through my life story; hope. My life isn’t perfect but it shows that no matter what a person has to go through if you keep trying it can get easier. Memories can become less raw, in my case they do still catch me off guard on occasions but even then they are not as painful as they once were. I am able to challenge my thoughts and turn those memories into a positive by telling myself that I survived whatever memory has surfaced and that I am worthy of leaving that part of my life behind. Continue reading

Keeping the box firmly closed…

Today I have woken up wishing I could just curl up and go back to sleep to wake again tomorrow feeling brighter and more able to face the world. I am fairly sure that the reason I feel this way is exhaustion, not because I am tired as I had a fairly decent night sleep but because I am emotionally drained. Continue reading

The best mum in the world…?

Mother’s Day, like Father’s Day, is a day which until I had my own child I dreaded. It has its own meaning now I am a mother and receive a card and treat, it’s a day to make me smile widely to show my pride at being a mammy.
Nearly all of the cards address ‘The best mother in the world’ and when that is not how you feel it seriously narrows the choice available to choose one. It’s not that I don’t love my mother, I do love her I just don’t feel that she deserves the title of Worlds Best Mother. Continue reading

Disclosure – The Sequel

Last month I blogged about how I respond when someone asks me why I have come into mental health nursing and received some positive feedback on that piece.
This morning a conversation between myself and a lovely, very dedicated and very experienced nurse turned to the subject of ECT or Electro Convulsive Therapy (I will write a whole blog on this in more depth sometime), she asked had I seen this treatment and it felt entirely natural to reply “seen it? I have had it!” Continue reading

Faith in Hope and Hope in Faith…

On a form if I am asked for ‘Religion’ I always put RC or Roman Catholic and recently I have questioned my allegiance to the Catholic Church. By this I do not mean I have questioned my faith as I feel strongly that I am guided in life but I mean that some of the actions or lack of actions of the Catholic Church have disturbed me and also I have been questioned as to how I can class myself as a catholic when I use contraception. I feel this blog may be as much for me to work out my thoughts on being a modern catholic woman as for me to share these thoughts with you.

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Tess of the D’Dubervilles…

Why do I find dieting so hard? Why can I not be happy when I look in the mirror?
I remember when I was at school studying ‘Tess of the D’Urbervilles’ understanding on a deep and very unfortunate level why Tess felt the need to shave off her eyebrows to disguise her beauty to men following her rape. I knew what it meant to wish that I hadn’t been so appealing in that way. Continue reading

Memory lane is a long road….

I can go for long periods of time thinking very little about my childhood but sometimes it seems everything reminds me. These past few months have triggered some uneasy thoughts about my experiences when every time I turn on the tv it seems another revelation in the Saville scandal is on the news. I try to remind myself that the more people talk about taboo subjects then stigma will reduce and hopefully more children will feel able to speak out sooner and suffer less. Continue reading