Gum on My Shoe

My deep gratitude for all those who never gave up on me during all my holiday-hating years. You all deserve jingles and bells and snowflakes and carols and pressies and happiness. When one has mental illness it’s nearly impossible to feel anything but gloom or death or anger. Fortunately I have friends who are fierce with their friendship. They see the tiny glow inside me and gently fan it. Because of them today I feel alive and strangely jolly and hopeful. May everyone have friends who let us stand on their feet without flinching, and let us chance a look through their eyes to taste joy.. Fran  

I often forget.. Years ago Months ago Weeks ago Days ago Hours ago Even minutes.. So many times I can’t access the pathways in my brain to take me to memories I’ve lived. I can’t access names or even faces. Photos help, Facebook helps, writing helps. My best friend logs a calendar for me and reminds me of things forgotten. He often reminds me who I am.. Fran  

Success with my test run of garlic mashed potatoes! It is amazing even that I am in the kitchen. I feel completely incompetent. I am petrified of cutting myself, which I did. I struggle to focus. I have to keep reminding myself of what I am doing and what’s next. Besides my neurons misfiring I am full of fatigue and everything hurts. None of this needs to be a problem. I just gently go in slow motion not pushing myself beyond the turtle speed I am at. The accomplishment feels monumental and need not be compared with those who are gifted. Npr helps. It offers a feel of intelligence and company. Fran  

“Two may talk together under the same roof for many years, yet never really meet; and two others at first speech are old friends.” (Mary Hartwell Catherwood) American writer Mary Catherwood clearly knew a thing or two about friendship. Her words echo something Fran and I talk about in our book. It is possible to feel utterly alone in the same room as people you have known for years. It is possible to sit beside someone you counted as a close friend, and feel utterly estranged. Those are the distances that get in the way. The good news is that distances can be bridged. Make the most of each opportunity, and every means at your disposal, to communicate honestly and often with your friend. Whether online or in person, find whatever ways work for you. That is the secret to closeness, and there is nothing virtual about it. Gum on My Shoe , chapter 4, “Making Connections”  

“My friend didn’t feel sorry for me. She believed that I had the strength within me to recover and to grow. That was the kindest thing she could have done. That was her great gift.” (Helen Thomson) These words from Helen Thomson epitomise the gift of care, rather than worry. As Fran and I explore in our book , the phrases “I worry about you” and “I care about you” are often used interchangeably, but there are three important differences. When we care about a friend we are expressing our trust in their abilities, strengths, and resilience. We trust ourselves to support them as best we can, and others to contribute as they are able. We don’t feel we have to do it on our own, fix everything, or find all the answers. When we worry about a friend we express fear that they lack the resources to meet whatever challenges they are facing. We fear we don’t know what we are doing, that we will be found lacking, or not up to the task. We fear others won’t be around to contribute, and we will b...

Sometimes I am filled with fury igniting a storm of tornado, hurricane, or wild fire. The recurring themes are my many lives lost and my limited present life, not that there need be a reason. The storm razes all the tender shoots I’ve carefully cultivated. Only the closest of friends stand by as I am slinging shots and snots. They are not afraid. They know me. They trust. Funny how my inner landscape clashes with my outer. Wishing escape from my hated self I stumble out the door to clothe myself in city. Art music and familiar faces let me access a different part of myself while the storm rages on inside. I had good health and good fortune, and then not. I am well aware of my fundamental nonacceptance of what is but right now I shall pretend to be as others are. There will be pain from this. There will be fatigue. And there will be tenderness, embracing, and unquenching rest yet again. Fran  

I liken my body and mind to a spaceship. Not one all sleek and shiny and new and well-engineered. My spaceship looks like the hillbillies. Rusty and dented and old and engineered with duct tape. I need plenty of space to take off and land and navigate everything in between. My spaceship is rickety and noisy and overheats regularly. It’s a Herculean task even to hold onto the madly vibrating controls, let alone steer the thing. The windshield is foggy and pebbled. Sometimes friends help guide my ship when I am unable. They also help with maintenance, which also is often too big for me. Eternal thanks is my contribution. The controls consist of lots of buttons and dials. When I push a button I hope the something I want to happen does, but that’s not always so. Sometimes things go on when I want them off and vice versa. Sometimes the dials get stuck, the screens freeze and crash, and I’m left relying on my instinct, which hopefully is not also defective. It would be tempting to le...

We are proud and delighted to introduce Rachel Kelly, author of Black Rainbow: How Words Healed Me, My Journey Through Depression and Walking on Sunshine: 52 Small Steps to Happiness . Forever at the Heart By Rachel Kelly When I began to keep a diary of my year, noting down the strategies that were helping keep me steady, I began each new season with a poem. Here’s my entry from the beginning of Spring: We are just back from a family trip to the Lake District, where lambing was in full flow. Printed below is John Clare’s ‘Young Lambs’, his celebration of spring as a time of renewal, when all sorts of things seem possible. This poem slows me down and makes me appreciate and be more attentive to my surroundings, which I tend to ignore when I’m busy and overwhelmed. The spring is coming by a many signs; 
 The trays are up, the hedges broken down,
 That fenced the haystack, and the remnant shines Like some old antique fragment weathered brown. And where suns peep, in...

A night of awakenings not in a good way left me grumpy and ragged. Meditation didn’t want to happen. Instead I wrote a friend who is struggling. My words struggled too. Still unsatisfied I sent it off. I stormed groggily out of bed for not a little coffee. I found an old picture of myself who I barely recognized. She looked back at me with a sparkle. I was surprised she showed cleavage. That’s not like me at all yet I felt less shame somehow. In fact I decided to make her my profile picture as if in doing so I would reconcile a piece of me long forgotten. I slowly dragged myself into the kitchen, another batch of cookies to make. My feet were like mud, my mind too. I slowed everything down so as not to hurt myself. I thought it was funny I was making my favorite to give to others. That felt really good. I left the kitchen to trim my Frankenstein toenails and draw my bath. The water was close to scalding yet I inched my way in. I felt enveloped in a hot and tight spand...

Have you ever spent time thinking about all the things that support you? Or do you imagine yourself completely independent? I lay on my couch and began to wonder. I have a couch to lie on, rather than concrete. A window lets in light and beauty. Bookshelves hold books and lovely things. Walls are ever ready to be punctured for art and photographs. Plants offer me their oxygen freely. My fish gives joy. Chairs invite sitting. Tables, dishes, glasses, silverware, napkins all cooperate to serve a meal. The fridge and freezer and cupboards endlessly receive and give food for nourishment. And let’s not forget the pots and pans, the stove, sink, and dishwasher. Spices jockey for position, eager to delight our tongue. Smells tickle our nose. They all patiently await our attention. Do we listen? Candles wait to be lit. Lamps wait to be switched off. My bed beckons me into her womb. Heat and cooling envelop me with no more effort on my part than the light press of a button. And the toi...

I took a break from Facebook recently, partly because a handful of people told me I was posting too much.. and partly because their judgments affected my health.. What I learned from the experience was that Facebook has value for me.. It feeds me.. When I am flat on my back in pain and fatigue my ability to get out and about is severely restricted, Facebook brings the world to me.. Why is that a bad thing?.. Why are people offended that I post too much and have too many friends and too much fun?.. Or maybe they are fed up with me posting about mental illness?.. Others enthusiastically encourage me to post both my words and photos because it interests and helps them.. Who would you have me listen to?.. What you probably don’t realize is that Facebook is part of my wellness toolbox.. Many times I have little or no energy to be out in the world.. Facebook keeps me connected, and connection helps me stay away from the edge.. Suicidal thinking is a daily presence in my world....

Hey everyone! It’s been a while since my last blog post . A lot has happened in the meantime, not all of it good, but this time I definitely have some good, and hopefully inspiring, news to report! I’ve been working on a fantasy novel for nearly three years now ( check out my author page ). I had been making steady but slow progress, mainly because living with CFS, depression and IBS takes up a lot of my energy. My fortunes changed this past June, when I was contacted by a representative of Nordland Publishing , a great little publishing company based in Norway. After a lot of Skype calls I was invited to join a group of writers who pool ideas and help each other. I can’t overemphasise how good it has been for me; since meeting them I’ve finished the first draft of Book 1, transformed my plans into a trilogy and made it a lot more streamlined. The group I’m with are all great people and it’s been a huge boon for me. I have saved the best...

We are proud to showcase an original piece by lyric fusion poet Alzenira Quezada, a.k.a. Lady Zen . Some time ago, Fran was moved deeply by Lady Zen’s performance of “Quicksand” at a bar in Portland , Maine. She recently approached the artist to request a written version. “I remember so well the three dimensional inloveness I felt when you performed it at MJ’s. Inside myself I correlated the quicksand to mental illness and the wiggling to the struggle for life.” What Lady Zen wrote for Fran is more than a transcript of her live performance. In Fran’s words, “Your offering in a more documentary vein expanded my thinking. Thank you.” “How to Get Yourself Out of Quicksand” is presented with the author’s permission. How to Get Yourself Out of Quicksand by Alzenira Quezada It was one of those nights when I wanted to turn off my mind and watch mindless television when I surfed upon a documentary about wha...

Many years ago when my life completely fell apart I cried like no one. I lost everything, outside and inside. The betrayal of my body took the cake. Every day for 2-3 hours for 2 years I wept. It was Niagra Falls weeping. And wailing. I played Melissa Etheridge while I was lain in my exquisite tub and let it all rip. I thought I would get to the end of it. That somehow if I cried enough my life would resume and get better somehow. Well no. I cried until there was not one more tear left. I gingerly picked up the broken pieces of my world and simply crawled baby steps. The only other option was death. I was close. I went to the woods of Maine. Where my eyes were like dried raisins. No matter if I was sad I could get no relief from tears no more. No relief at all. Today I have tears. Again. They squeak out like mice. And they are welcome. Fran  

Reach out and show you care. Friendship is good medicine and being present is the greatest gift of all . (Fran Houston) Fran’s op-ed article Maine Voices: Time for mental health awareness was published in the Maine Sunday Telegram on October 4, 2015, marking the start of Mental Health Awareness Week . In it she described her history of mental illness, and her experiences working with psychiatrist George McNeil. Dr. McNeil gave me what I needed most — the sense of being heard. Somehow, I learned to be human again. Somehow I began to create habits for myself and grew a life I wanted. As my self-worth got woven together, I began to care. With Dr. McNeil’s help, I got better. I am not cured. My moods still swing. My symptoms still flare. But I now know how to surround myself with good souls who hold my hand while I try to balance on the seesaw of bipolar disorder. And I have tools in my wellness toolbox. Fran’s heartfelt account resonated with many ...

What an amazing week this has been. A week of awareness. A week of passionate and compassionate people making a difference. I had an opinion piece in the Maine Sunday Telegram and attended two local events; an It Takes A Community public forum for Maine Behavioral Healthcare , and a fundraiser evening for mental health non-profit Family Hope featuring humorist Tim Sample of the Maine Humor Company. It was hard for me. I don’t do events well. I get social anxiety. I get exhausted. My pain flares. My thoughts race. I can’t hear well. I can’t see well. It costs me. But the reward was gold. Attending these Mental Health Awareness Week events gave me the best gift ever. The reminder that there are people who care. One soul there had undergone ECT every 2 weeks for 17 years. Forced. We all were riveted. Speechless. Breathless. I met someone who helps those in extreme situations and shared how this affected me. How amazing it is that there are many reaching o...

I walk for.. No more stigma.. Understanding for all!.. On Sunday September 27, Fran joined hundreds of others at Spring Point Ledge Lighthouse, South Portland, Maine, for the 13th annual NAMI Maine Walk. All were there to support the National Alliance on Mental Illness and to participate in Maine’s largest mental health celebration. It was a moving occasion for Fran, who walked with friends as Team Gum on My Shoe . As she wrote afterwards: My heart swells with appreciation and affection for all those who walked today.. Tears staining my face and giggles spilling over.. The joy of exhaustion for energy very well spent.. Continue walking in life only to love.. The event was covered for WCSH6 television. Watch the report and see if you can spot Fran! Meanwhile, on the other side of the Atlantic, Marty set off for an equivalent walk through Rickerby Park, Carlisle, in the north-west of England. We invite you to visit our Team Gum on My Shoe page to leave a mess...

Following on from my blogs on the excellent Mental Health First Aid (MHFA) and Applied Suicide Intervention Skills Training (ASIST) workshops, I’d like to share my experience of the QPR Gatekeeper course, which I successfully completed online last week. What is QPR? QPR Gatekeeper training (the acronym stands for Question, Persuade, Refer) is one of several suicide prevention training programs developed by the QPR Institute. There is a good summary of the program on their website. The course covers: How to Question, Persuade and Refer someone who may be suicidal How to get help for yourself or learn more about preventing suicide The common causes of suicidal behavior The warning signs of suicide How to get help for someone in crisis The course costs $29.95 (approx £12.85) on the QPR website but it is offered for free by some organisations including Hope for Life . Who is it for? A Gatekeeper is someone in a position to recognize a crisis and the warning signs t...

Those who live their lives to the full have no need of immortality . Sirkka-Liisa Konttinen Yesterday I visited the Laing Art Gallery in Newcastle upon Tyne, and discovered For Ever Amber, an exhibition of documentary photography, mostly black and white and primarily of the North East in the 70s and 80s. “Opening up an extraordinary documentary narrative, this exhibition is the first major account of the AmberSide Collection started by a group of like-minded students at Regent Street Polytechnic in London in 1968. With a resolve to collect documents of working class culture, Amber Collective moved to the North East of England the following year in 1969 and in 1977 opened Side Gallery where it remains today.” The collection of photographs and videos affected me deeply. The following is excerpted from my chat conversation with Fran afterwards. Marty: Wonderful exhibition of photography. Local documentary photos. Gritty, real. Real life.. Real people.. Hopelessness...

Thoughts on World Suicide Prevention Day. I feel it is important to say that being there for someone who lives with suicidal thoughts and feelings isn’t all about talking them down from a bridge or asking how many pills they took, what they were and how long ago. In a crisis, intervention, situation, yes. But for many people suicidal thoughts and feelings are an occasional or an ongoing reality and if we care for them we can support with the hope and intention of helping them keep from ever getting to the bridge parapet or downing the pills. If you don't know how to approach your friend or colleague or family member, give it a go anyway. If you don’t know what to say, say something, from a place of care and heart, not from a place of judgement or anger. Ask how you can help. Or just be quiet and be there. Most of all, be yourself. The best yourself you can be. Because in that moment, your needs are not the issue. Your friend, your colleague, your family member, the p...

What a day. A day of kittens. Of kitten therapy. And I got to take a part. I have a fish. I love my fish. He even lets me pet him. But he is not a kitten. I hiked down to Congress Square Park. They had five kittens in a playroom. Five people at a time. Five minutes. Kittens bring you into the moment. They let you wake up to who you are. One who wants to play. And you get lost. Or found. This was my day. You can watch my interview and find out more about kitty therapy on the Portland Press Herald page . Fran  

We recently had the pleasure to meet freelance health writer Diane Atwood when she interviewed us for her award-winning blog Catching Health . The interview itself was a delight, and a perfect example of how Fran and I make our transatlantic friendship work. As Diane writes: When they first started communicating, they chatted on Facebook or sent each other emails and, after deciding that phone calls were too expensive, they started Skyping. That’s how I interviewed Marty. Fran and I sat in her living room and talked to Marty in his living room via Skype. You can read the full interview — which includes details of the sponsored walk we are doing in support of the National Alliance on Mental Illness — on Diane’s own Catching Health blog, as well as her column for Bangor Daily News and on WCSH6 . We have received some fantastic feedback already, including this from Cheryl Ramsay, Walk Coordinator for NAMI Maine: Marty and Fran are making big waves. And ...

Fran and I are proud to be partners with the fantastic team behind michigan , and invited screenwriter Mickey Solis to talk about the film. For more information check out the michigan website , blog , twitter and instagram . My name is Mickey Solis. I’m an actor and screenwriter. I’ve been invited to write a guest blog in support of my forthcoming film titled michigan . The film is about (among other things) suicide, depression, addiction, and the difficult path toward self-realization. This film was inspired by the small town in Michigan where I grew up, by tragic events that took place there, and by some of the thoughts and feelings I became obsessed with later in life about that time and place. Around age 30 I began addressing parts of my emotional life in more creative and healthy ways. That is when I started to conceive this film. It is meant to be a curative journey through the traumatized psyche of a fictional character. As a graduate student at the dr...

My Father died when I was 11, and my relationship with my Mother was strained. I worked successfully as a broadcaster, and then moved into Public Relations. As I moved up the corporate ladder each role brought more stress and pressure. My work ethos had always been to not only succeed in everything I did, but to do it perfectly. I would always beat myself up even if I succeeded with a project even beyond everyone’s expectations if just one aspect of it didn’t work out perfectly. I realised I was a driven perfectionist, but to me, at that time, that was just normal. In the run-up to my illness I had an extremely high-powered, high-pressured job with an unsympathetic boss in a corporate culture that heaped a massive workload on everyone and expected long hours to achieve it. For around a year I had no idea what was happening to me, why I felt depressed, why panic attacks were a regular occurrence, why I wasn’t sleeping. I regarded my wife’s parents very much as my main famil...

Fran and I are excited and proud to join the fantastic group of partners for the film michigan . Directed by János Szász with screenplay by Mickey Solis and set for production in 2016 by Yale Productions , michigan is a new independent drama addressing teenage suicide, depression, and addiction in an isolated and desperate town of the American Midwest. As the team state on the film’s website: By bringing michigan to life we hope to not only promote awareness of teenage suicide, but also encourage suicide prevention, and explore its various causes. For more information on the film and the great folks behind it, check out their website , blog , twitter and instagram .  

Fran and I are delighted to host the final stop in Anne Goodwin’s five week blog tour for her debut novel Sugar and Snails (Inspired Quill, 2015). When I first met Anne at her book launch in Newcastle’s Jesmond library she was icing cupcakes. We’d connected only a few weeks previously, on Twitter, but I was greeted with a huge smile, a hug and a “Thank you for coming!” It was Anne’s second launch event for her novel, and the first I’d ever attended. The little library soon filled with locals, friends and family, some of whom had travelled considerable distances to be there and celebrate Anne’s achievement. As I listened to Anne read from her novel and talk about the years she lived and worked in the area (much of Sugar and Snails is set in and around Jesmond), I found myself thinking ahead to the day when Fran and I (one of us likely present via webcam!) will host a launch event for our book. If it’s half as warm, welcoming...

Most times when I am out in the world I wear my mask. The one that insures the best possibility of relating. What goes on behind the scenes is a different story. It’s not because I’m lying, it’s because I work very hard at presenting well and being acceptable. Presenting in ways that are unacceptable to others costs me far more. I am an actress in my own life. Few know the inside scoop. I am fortunate to have friends who not only know me but also love me whether my mask is on or off. Fran

Readers of Marty and Fran’s excellent blog will already know about how they negate the geographical distance between them. But how can that be done when one of the people involved experiences anxiety about using the phone? With a little imagination, decent wifi and a mobile phone or tablet anything is possible. I tweeted the other day that I had all the ingredients to make Grandma’s Biscuits but that my thirteen year old daughter didn’t want to bake. (I have no idea what the biscuits are actually called, but I used to make them with my grandma when I was a little girl and that is what they have always been known as.) My friend, who blogs as mentalhound, tweeted back that she would love to bake with me — except she lives nearly two hundred miles away. Well, if she wanted to bake with me, I wasn’t about to let distance get in the way! I tweeted her a picture of all the ingredients, and told her to wash her hands and put a pinny (apron) on. There th...