Showing posts with label Frustration. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Frustration. Show all posts

Wednesday, 24 July 2024

Annoyance Day: Here's a List of Things That Are Annoying Me and You're On It

“Did I mention I’m annoyed?”

I was on my regular evening call with Fran. It was a Friday. “Yes, Fran. I noticed.” After thirteen years of friendship, I don’t miss much. She was, indeed, annoyed. By this friend and that. By this thing someone had done or said, that thing someone had not done or not said. By people in general. By life. There was quite a list. Like any of us, Fran gets frustrated from time to time, but it was rare for her to be quite so annoyed at quite so many things all at once.

I invited her to take advantage of how she was feeling by throwing anything and everything that was annoying her into the pot. This and that. Him and her. Everything and everyone. Noting that my name was conspicuously absent from the list, I told her I was feeling left out. “Aren’t you annoyed at me?” It turned out she was, so we got that out into the open too.

I didn’t try to fix things or dismiss how she was feeling. I didn’t offer my point of view, rationalise why maybe that person had done what they did, or why things perhaps weren’t as bad as she was making them out to be. That could come later, if needed. Right now, it wasn’t about helping Fran find her way out. It was about being with her where she was. My intuition was borne out the following week when she thanked me for how I’d handled things on Annoyance Day, as she named it.

“You didn’t tell me to get over it and move on, or just let it go. You sat in the shit with me.”

I laughed at that. “I didn’t sit delicately at the edge, either. I invited you to throw it all over me too!”

Sitting beside her in the mess is an analogy Fran’s used several times, and it’s one I’ve taken to heart. The following is from the epilogue to our book High Tide Low Tide. Fran is talking about some of her darkest times.

[Marty] did not reach down a hand to pull me up from my dark hole. He came down and sat with me while I began rethreading, bit by bit, what could be mended. .... To him it wasn’t about getting me to climb out. It was about being with me in all of it.

That Friday evening, things weren’t that bleak. Fran wasn’t furious, or desperate, or suicidal. She was simply annoyed. Pissed. (Pissed off, as we’d say in the UK.) It would have been easy for me to try and placate her. Debate or cajole her out of how she was feeling. I might have succeeded. More likely, I’d have added to her catalogue of annoyances. Allowing her to be in the middle of all she was feeling, without judging her for it or pushing for her to put it behind her, gave Fran permission to own her emotions and experience them for what they were. Afterwards, we acknowledged how well it fit in with our mantra Feel it. Claim it. Love it. Let it go. Here’s another excerpt from our book:

It can be challenging to handle powerful emotions, especially when they seem to come out of nowhere. Rather than allowing our emotions full rein, or trying to deny them, we find it helps to accept what we feel, take whatever meaning we can from the experience, and then release our attachment to it so we can move on.

All four steps are important, but it’s easy to rush through the first one, especially where the emotions are unwelcome. The ultimate goal may be to let go, but if we don’t allow ourselves to feel what we’re feeling we’re cheating ourselves of the moment’s potential. It’s an approach worth considering. I’m happy to report that in our case, Fran was able to move through her annoyances and emerge the other side. There will be other Annoyance Days, I’m sure. For her. For me too. We know how to approach them, though, both individually and as friends. There’s strength and comfort in knowing that.

Over to You

What do you think of how Fran and I handled things on this occasion? How would you respond to a friend who came to you with a big list of annoyances? How would you want your friend to respond if you were feeling that way? What helps — and doesn’t help — in moments like that? We’d love to hear from you, either in the comments below or via our contact page.

 

Photo by 傅甬 华 at Unsplash.

 

Wednesday, 25 May 2022

Here We Are Again: How to Support Your Friend When Their Symptoms Return

Being there for someone who lives with illness of any kind isn’t always easy, and it can be especially hard, for you and for them, when symptoms return after a period of relative wellness or stability. (I’ve written previously here and elsewhere about managing the contrary situation, where a friend or loved one is doing well.) This is something several of my friends experience. Despite differences in their diagnoses, certain common themes keep coming up.

It helps me to remember that no matter how hard or scary things might be for me when a friend’s symptoms return, it’s far worse for the person living with it day to day.

Return or Relapse?

Some people might call this a relapse. I prefer to talk about someone finding themselves in a similar situation as before, or their symptoms appearing to have returned. Neither Fran nor I are qualified to diagnose a new episode of mania or depression, for example. That’s her clinician’s role. What I can do is pay attention to how Fran presents when I’m with her and how she describes what’s going on for her. I can discuss things with her, and help her through it as best I can.

The word relapse has a number of meanings depending on context, some of which carry connotations of moral failure, weakness, or judgment. Alongside the straightforward description of relapse as “a recurrence of symptoms of a disease after a period of improvement,” Merriam Webster offers an alternate definition, as “the act or an instance of backsliding, worsening, or subsiding.” Collins online dictionary says “[i]f a sick person relapses, their health suddenly gets worse after it had been improving.” I have no issues with that, but they offer a more judgmental alternative: “If you say that someone relapses into a way of behaving that is undesirable, you mean that they start to behave in that way again.”

Ultimately, calling it a relapse or a return of symptoms is a matter of preference. Nevertheless, the words we choose matter. Avoiding any hint of judgment is respectful and kind, not least because our friends may well be feeling guilt or shame, imagining they’ve done something wrong, or not taken enough care of themselves to prevent their symptoms returning.

What Symptoms Are We Talking About?

Not all symptoms of illness recur, but many do. Time and again, we find ourselves “back here again,” experiencing things we thought — or hoped — we’d recovered from or left behind us. These will vary from person to person. Those my friends experience include anxiety, depression, fatigue, insomnia, mania, pain, psychosis, self-harm, and suicidal thinking.

The frequency and intensity with which symptoms return varies from person to person but also from symptom to symptom and over time. Sometimes, these waves of recurrent illness overlap and exacerbate one another, as Fran describes in our book:

[it’s] amazing how i can be doing well for a while and then deteriorate so quickly for no apparent reason other than i have three illness that have a mind of their own and independently operate like sine waves..

Why Do They Keep Coming Back?

Understanding that there’s no simple or single reason for symptoms to come back helps counter the tendency to blame ourselves or our friends when they reappear.

Some conditions are inherently episodic or cyclical, such as bipolar disorder, seasonal affective disorder (SAD), or the stress and anxiety many people experience around family holidays such as Christmas or Thanksgiving. For many years, Fran experienced winter depression. She loves the potential offered by the summer months but finds the transition from spring to summer hard.

Some are situational, such as stress or anxiety related to work pressure; personal issues with family, friends, or colleagues; or other aspects of our lives and environment. We may be free of symptoms for long periods, only to have them return when the situations which trigger them present themselves again.

Symptoms may reappear as the result of changes in medication or treatment regimes, including starting or stopping a particular medication, or changing dosage. My friend and fellow mental health blogger Aimee Wilson has written about her experiences after one of her medications was inadvertently stopped by her pharmacist. Another friend experienced what appeared to be a moderately severe episode of depression. Her psychiatrist identified it as a side-effect of medication prescribed by a different doctor for an unrelated condition.

With some conditions, symptoms may return even after long periods of remission. Examples include cancer; pain from previous injury or conditions such as fibromyalgia; and fatigue, including chronic fatigue syndrome (CFS/ME). Other recurrences are random, or effectively so. These include symptoms triggered by factors outside our control or ability to anticipate or avoid. Such triggers include trauma, injury, sudden change, and the death of a family member, friend, or pet.

It’s worth noting that symptoms can arise in different ways at different times, even for the same person. In High Tide Low Tide: The Caring Friend’s Guide to Bipolar Disorder, Fran and I discuss several ways suicidal thinking presents itself for her, including relentless thinking, suicidal ideation triggered by situations and stress, and feelings of hopelessness and despair.

How Does it Feel?

Whatever their cause, nature, and intensity, when symptoms reappear it’s natural to feel low, frustrated, guilty, and even angry at being “back here again” despite all best efforts to keep ourselves safe, stable, and well.

I’m more used to helping friends handle these feelings than dealing with them myself. That said, in the past year or so I’ve had to accept that my baseline mood has shifted significantly downward, and I’m subject to recurring episodes of what I variously describe as flatness, low mood, or depression. In other words, this boy gets sad too. It’s not only my mental health. I’m currently experiencing intermittent fatigue after contracting covid a couple of months ago. It’s too early to know if this is going to persist, but it’s disconcerting to think it’s something I may need to factor into my life. The conversations I’ve had with Fran and other friends over the years about their situations are helping me feel my way forward.

What’s the Best Way to Help?

What’s the best way to help your friend handle the return of their symptoms after a period of relative wellness? The first thing I’d suggest is to encourage your friend to acknowledge what they’re feeling, whether that’s disappointment, frustration, anger, or hopelessness. Hold space for them to vent or talk about their feelings, if they want to. Acknowledge your feelings too, but avoid bringing judgment into the space you’re sharing with your friend.

Invite your friend to accept the unpleasant truth that recovery isn’t always guaranteed, may not be linear, and is often temporary. I use the word invite deliberately, because this isn’t an easy thing to accept. Fran lives with three episodic conditions — bipolar disorder, chronic fatigue syndrome (CFS/ME), and fibromyalgia. When she’s relatively well and stable, it’s hard for her — and for me — to accept that depression, mania, fatigue, and pain are almost guaranteed to reappear at some point. The only up-side I can offer when they do is that it’s equally certain the episode will not last forever. Things will change, because they always do.

It’s also true that no matter how much your friend may feel they’re “back here again,” things are not the same as on previous occasions. Their situation in life is different (not always better, but different). They have moved on from where they were last time. They have whatever lessons they’ve learned from previous episodes to help them through this one.

Our friend Julie A. Fast, author of books including Getting It Done When You’re Depressed, Take Charge of Bipolar Disorder, and Loving Someone With Bipolar Disorder, stresses the importance of treating the underlying health condition. Her mantra TREAT BIPOLAR FIRST is a reminder not to give up on whatever treatments, practices, and strategies we’ve put in place, including self-care. That doesn’t mean blindly following previous regimes if they’re no longer working. Where symptoms continue to reoccur or episodes increase in frequency or severity suggest your friend consults their clinician to see if a change in treatment is warranted.

Your friend may be reluctant to do so, especially if they’ve managed to achieve a degree of stability, because as we’ve discussed, changes in treatment can introduce new problems. These include side effects of the medication itself, and the potential to overshoot if the dose isn’t judged correctly. Fran experienced a massive overshoot from mania into depression when her medication was changed towards the end of 2011. She endured six months of debilitating depression before further changes in treatment brought a degree of stability and wellness.

Another friend who lives with bipolar disorder and chronic insomnia has had various changes to her treatment regime in the time I’ve known her. Despite often feeling frustrated and discouraged, she remains determined to explore her options in pursuit of mood stability and more healthy sleep patterns. As I remind her, this determination not to give up, and to keep moving forward is what courage looks like.

I help Fran remain vigilant for the return of symptoms, and potential trigger situations. It requires a high degree of trust and honesty. I get to share what I see in terms of Fran’s behaviour and flag any potential shifts into depression or mania to her, but it’s important not to overreact, and that I respect her take on what’s happening. That way, we each benefit from the other’s perspective. Fran gets to have a bad day (or several consecutive bad days) without it necessarily signifying she’s in depression. Likewise, she’s entitled to feel good without me raising the mania flag at the first sign of happiness. As I’ve written elsewhere:

We are both aware of the need for vigilance. Bipolar is like that. Any brightness, any momentary joy, each lifting of the curtain, is suspect, and may be the prelude to mania. But as I told Fran today: “You are doing well, and it feels wholesome to me. We will be vigilant. But don’t be scared to have a nice time, to smile, to find ease and enjoyment. These things are your right. You are worthy of them; of goodness, of living life fully.”

Sharing the responsibility for vigilance isn’t for everyone. I’ve offered to do the same for other friends and had my offer politely declined as unnecessary or inappropriate. That’s okay too.

A Final Note on Judgment and Kindness

I had a conversation recently with a friend about self-harm. My friend hasn’t self-harmed for a long time and cannot imagine herself being in that place again. Nevertheless, she said she’d never say it will never happen, only that she has developed more healthy coping strategies. I said I would never say that she — or anyone — had let themselves or me down if they self-harmed, no matter how long it had been since they last did. It wasn’t a throwaway comment on my part. It’s something I believe and know to be true.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not immune to feelings of disappointment and judgment, but I recognise they’re profoundly unhelpful and say more about me than the person I’m thinking about. Whatever the situation, whether it’s the return of symptoms or the repeat of unhealthy behaviour, what is helpful, what is kind, is to allow my friends and loved ones to be where they are, including feeling ashamed or disappointed in themselves if that’s what they’re experiencing. That way I can be there for and with them, and help them find a way forward when they’re ready to take that step. Taking time to come to terms with what’s happening is an important part of that process. As I’ve described previously in a piece titled I Wasn’t Disappointed in You When:

I wasn’t disappointed in you. But maybe you were. And I didn’t honour that. I didn’t allow breathing space for that.

Over to You

In this article I’ve shared some of the ways I am there for my friends when they’re experiencing symptoms of illness again after a short or a long period of relative wellness. How do you feel about what I’ve shared? Does it resonate for you, or would you handle things differently? If you experience recurrent symptoms yourself, how do you handle it? What do you want and need from your friends and loved ones? How can others best help you move forward?

Fran and I would love to hear your thoughts, either in the comments below or through our contact page.

 

Photo by LinkedIn Sales Solutions at Unsplash.

 

Wednesday, 6 May 2020

Cold, Wet, and Grumpy: A Few Thoughts on Expectation and Acceptance

When I set out for my evening walk last Friday I was feeling good. I’d finished my first week working from home after a fortnight’s lockdown vacation and was looking forward to the weekend. The weather forecast held the possibility of rain but I was well prepared. My Doc Martens boots, a micropile fleece and gilet for warmth, and a light raincoat that is past its best but more than adequate for the occasional shower.

In a small bag beneath my coat I carried my journal, my favourite fountain pen, and a birthday card I needed to post. I also had my phone and Bluetooth headset. As I headed out I messaged one of my best friends to see if she fancied joining me on a video call. She replied to say she was about to have her dinner. I was disappointed; a little dejected. I loved having company on my walks and a call would have set me up for the weekend after a busy week.

I smiled to myself, recognising the frustration and feelings of abandonment that tend to arise when things don’t go the way I want or expect them to. I’m better at handling them than I used to be. My friend and I hadn’t spoken in a few days but there was nothing wrong. She wasn’t cross with me. She didn’t hate me. We hadn’t fallen out of friends. She was having her dinner, that’s all!

I walked on until I got to my favourite bench. I often stopped there to write or think, or write about thinking. I took out my journal and began to explore what was going on for me. I managed four and a half sentences before it started raining. It was little more than a fine drizzle but journaling would have to wait. It was okay. I’d still get my walk, and I could call at the little shop for milk and a few groceries so there’d be less for me to carry home from the supermarket next day. I might pick up a couple of beers. If my friend had finished eating she might still be up for a call. If not, I’d send her a few photos along the way. It would be fine.

The rain wasn’t easing. If anything, it was getting heavier by the minute. I sheltered beneath a stand of trees at the roadside. It’s one of the most photogenic spots on my walk but it was too dull for photos. Even the bluebells and snowdrops looked forlorn. Most days, I’d walk a few hundred yards further to the small bridge that spans the Ouseburn. There are cherry trees laden with blossom on the other side of the stream: beyond that, a field with three or four horses. Not this time, though. It was too wet to walk any further. I was beginning to feel a long way from home. There’d be no shelter once I moved from the cover of the trees. If my friend messaged now to say she was free it was too wet to have my phone out for a video call. Voice would work because I could keep my phone in my pocket, but I wasn’t even sure I was up for that now.

As I headed back I could feel my mood shifting from disappointment into annoyance, frustration, and resentment. No relaxing walk. No call. Not even the opportunity to journal how I was feeling. In different circumstances, I’d have found it easier to be philosophical. In different circumstances, I’d be turning to one of the key mantras that Fran and I talk about in our book High Tide, Low Tide:

Feel it. Claim it. Love it. Let it go.

I scowled as I crossed the road. I was certainly FEELING IT. My resentment and grouchiness had reached epic levels. How dare my friend be eating her dinner when I wanted to connect with her? How dare it rain so hard that we couldn’t have had a call anyway? How dare the water be running off my coat and drenching my trousers? My feet were dry in my DMs but that seemed little comfort. I could only hope the birthday card wasn’t getting wet inside my bag. There was no way I was going to make it as far as the postbox now — or the shop. The whole purpose of my walk — every aspect of it — had been taken from me. By this point, I was hoping my friend wouldn’t message to say she was free — and furious that she hadn’t. Oh, I was feeling it all right!

I stomped on. What came next? Oh yes. I always struggled with the CLAIM IT part. It was hard to accept my feelings and responses as my responsibility. They were, though. My friend had done nothing wrong. She wasn’t ignoring me. She hadn’t cancelled plans at the last minute. She was having her dinner. Likewise, the universe wasn’t conspiring against me. What arrogance, to imagine my plans worthy of the universe going out of its way to get in mine! I’d been looking forward to a nice walk and a call with my friend. It hadn’t worked out. It was raining. That’s all that had happened. End of. The feelings that had been triggered in me were no one’s responsibility but mine. A glimmer of awareness opened up for me.

If the rain had stopped and the sun had come out it would have been nice. It didn’t, but I could feel a certain lightness as I turned for home. I wasn’t easy to LOVE IT but my mood was beginning to shift. It was okay for me to be grumpy. Who enjoys getting soaking wet when they’d hoped for a pleasant walk? Who would be happy if they didn’t get to talk with a beloved friend? No one, right? I could forgive myself for “getting in a tizz,” as my mother might have said. I could be gentle towards myself for doing the best I could in the circumstances. I could love myself — and my friend, and the universe — for being precisely how and who and what we were in that moment.

As I arrived home I could finally LET IT GO. I messaged my friend.

Got drenched on my walk *sad face* Didn't get as far as the little shop so no beer until Tesco tomorrow. Warm now in my pjs and my rocking chair though *smiley face*

Maybe it will rain again on my walk tonight. Maybe not. Maybe I’ll get to speak to my friend today. Maybe not. Whatever happens, I will hold the moment lightly and gently for what it is.

 

Wednesday, 13 June 2018

Frustration and Codependency: Getting It Wrong Is Okay

When Fran and I were developing the ideas for our book I kept a series of “Scrapbook” documents. In them I recorded anything that occurred in our lives which seemed relevant and might prove useful or helpful. Excerpts from our conversations, social media chat, and emails; snippets from my personal journal; ideas and questions; links to websites, books, and other reference material. This post is taken from notes made in December 2012, with a few minor edits for clarity.


Frustration and Codependency: Getting It Wrong Is Okay

Thursday December 13, 2012

Last night at 11 p.m. I was waiting for Fran to get home and come online. She messaged me to say she was home and was going to send [her friend] a happy birthday message. I was happy to hear that and thought she wouldn’t be long ... then she messaged that she was going to check my Facebook Wall. I started to get impatient. I felt Fran could have come on cam with me while she did that. But I put on some gentle music and did some meditative breathing while I was waiting.

Fran came on cam a little later around 11:25 or 11:30 and the first thing she said was that she had found the “two minutes of calm” video I’d posted and had meditated to that (and in fact rather longer than two minutes). I did feel pissed off then, partly because I had thought Fran and I could have done that together (which we did, later, once I had regained my composure).

Part of me recognised that — of course — Fran was and is free to do whatever she wants to do before coming online to meet with me, and she’d been out all day and must have wanted and needed a little space to herself first… But another part of me was feeling aggrieved, thinking that she knew I was waiting for her and would be eager to see her. It was a classic pouty moment!

Of course, it didn’t last too long! Fran was great with me and allowed me to feel what I was feeling, until I was ready to let go of it. THAT is why we work so well together. We understand how these things work. The day before she had been all uptight about not having heard back from [her friend] about accommodation for their trip to Barcelona and I gave her space to feel and express that so she was ready later to talk with [her friend] and get things sorted. That is what we do for each other.

All that led onto something else that is really important regarding our book.

Fran said the book needs to include difficulties the well one (caregiver) experiences as the ill one moves towards wellness: the shifts in role, the sense of abandonment. The sense that all this care has been given and what is the caregiver going to get back in return? It fit what had just happened: me feeling Fran should want to be with me as much as I wanted to be with her, whereas in fact she was taking care of herself and paying attention to what she needed in a very healthy way.

It also fit with my abandonment responses at different times, when Fran has wanted and needed to find her own space. We have plenty of examples to draw on! This is a really important topic.