Feels Like Home: Four of My Happy Places

There are places you haven’t been where you already belong. (Unknown)

This article was inspired by a recent Instagram post by Rachel Kelly. Rachel is the author of five books on mental health and wellbeing. She’s also a respected public speaker, and official ambassador for mental health charities including Rethink Mental Illness and SANE. Her post included photographs of the English Lake District. “Being there,” she said, “never fails to put a smile on my face.” Rachel was in the Lake District when she wrote the foreword for our book High Tide Low Tide. I love thinking that she was in her happy place when she did so.

Where are my happy places, though? Where is my heart most at ease? Where do I feel most at home? I settled on four places: Memory Lane, Langrigg; Wateredge Inn, Ambleside; Stack Newcastle; and Costa Coffee, Kingston Park. This selection will come as no surprise to close friends and attentive readers, because I’ve talked about them on several previous occasions. In a post written in March 2021 as England began to emerge from lockdown I anticipated the loss of places and activities that had been important to me.

At some point, though, it dawned on me that things will never return to how they used to be. The impact of covid, of lockdown, of all the changes we lived through last year and are still living through, is simply too great for us to pick up where we left off. Vaccinations will allow us to move forward but right now, as England begins gradually to open up again, I can only see that many things I valued (and some I took for granted) have already gone beyond any hope of retrieval. Others may resume, but they won’t be the same. I’m not the same. We aren’t the same. How could we be, with all we have gone through?

Some were indeed lost. Others are still available to me, albeit changed by everything we’ve lived through. Rather than dwell on what’s gone, I want to explore why revisiting these four places — in person or in memory — remains so important to my sense of identity and wellbeing.

Memory Lane, Langrigg

I scarcely remember my first visit to Langrigg in Cumbria. It was certainly a long time ago. 2004, maybe. It became a favourite holiday destination, revisited many times over the years. As lovely as the cottage was, my happy place is the walk from there to the village of Great Musgrave.

Little more than a mile each way, that walk along the winding single-track road became a treasured part of my visits to Langrigg; an opportunity to check in with myself as to what had changed and not changed since I was last there. I walked almost every evening, no matter the weather. The only shelter was the bus stop in the village and a small stand of trees roughly halfway along the road. More than once, I returned to the cottage drenched to the bone. More often, though, the weather was kind. I remember Langrigg most for the glorious early evening light and wide skies.

I don’t know if the road has a local name, but to me it will always be Memory Lane. It’s been a faithful friend to me over the years, bearing witness to whatever I was going through at the time. The fields, trees, and hedgerows held space for me — literally and figuratively — to explore my thoughts and feelings, fears and joys, crippling doubts and passionate certainties. There was one gate I’d stop at almost every time to gaze across the rolling landscape; the village at the top of the hill to my left, the cottage in the middle distance to my right. I walked alone, but I’ve shared the experience many times with friends via photos, texts, chat, and voice or video calls.

My final visit was in October 2019. The trips planned for the following year were cancelled due to the pandemic and the owner decided to stop renting the cottage as holiday accommodation. It hurts physically to know I’ll never walk there again. There’s a certain irony in Memory Lane itself having passed into memory, but those memories are strong, reinforced by the many photographs I’ve taken over the years, and the fact I’ve shared so much of it with others. Revisiting as I do, in memory and conversation, is powerfully validating. It connects the now-me with then-me. Not me at a specific moment in time, but the person I was and became over decades. Not all the memories are happy or easy, but they’re all part of who I am. I’m reminded of the poem At Castle Boterel by Thomas Hardy. I used to know it by heart and I have — I’m sure — declaimed it to the sheep and cows, the fields and the wide skies of Langrigg on more than one occasion. The poem ends:

Primaeval rocks form the road’s steep border,
And much have they faced there, first and last,
Of the transitory in Earth’s long order;
But what they record in colour and cast
Is — that we two passed.

There’s a glorious recording of this and other Hardy poems read by Richard Burton.

Wateredge Inn, Ambleside

Compared to the meandering mile or more of Memory Lane, this happy place is very precisely located. It’s one of two or three tables in the corner of the garden of the Wateredge Inn, Ambleside. The water in question is Windermere, largest of the lakes in the English Lake District. From my table, less than twenty feet from the waves lapping against the pebbles of the shore, I have a perfect view south along the lake. It’s early evening and the last few ferries of the day ply their trade from the Ambleside jetty to Bowness and beyond. It’s simply, breathtakingly, beautiful. On the table is a pint of beer, my beloved brown passport-size Traveler’s Notebook, fountain pen, phone stand, and journal. On my head, my Bluetooth headset, anticipating a call. Fran and a few other close friends have shared moments with me there.

This is the most recent addition to my list of happy places. I discovered it when staying at Waterhead in July 2018 and returned the following summer. I thought of it often during lockdown, wondering if I’d ever be back. I needn’t have worried. I returned last month and although a great deal has changed in the intervening years, in my personal life and the wider world, it hasn’t lost its magic. It felt good to be back, adding new feelings and experiences to its stock of memories. I doubt I’ll be there again before next summer, but it’s part of me now.

Stack Newcastle

After a year of lockdown and social restrictions I had conflicting feelings about Stack Newcastle, which had been one of my favourite places.

STACK Newcastle, my go-to hangout until covid struck, where I’ve had so many good times hanging out with friends, or calling in on my own for a beer and a falafel wrap? The venue is set to reopen and I dare say I’ll go back at some point, but with social distancing and having to book in advance the atmosphere will never be the same. What if it never feels warm and welcoming — a Marty place — again?

Despite my doubts, I reclaimed Stack for myself once the restrictions eased. It wasn’t the same, but I added new memories and moments to the many I’d collected since its opening in August 2018. The venue closed permanently earlier this year, its city centre site due for redevelopment.

It’s hard to overestimate the significance this collection of container units held for me. It was the closest I’ve ever had to a regular pub or “watering hole.” It’s also the only place I’ve ever been able to order drinks successfully — I usually get overlooked while the bar staff serve everyone else. That’s perhaps because I’ve never felt more confident in myself and less out of my depth socially. Busy pubs and bars have never my idea of fun, but there was something about Stack which appealed to me no matter how crowded it was. Some of my fondest memories are when the place was heaving, the long benches in the main area crammed to bursting point. At such times, the route to and from the bar required careful navigation between the bodies of people talking, drinking, singing, dancing to the live music, or making their own way through the happy crowd.

And it was a happy crowd. I can’t recall any altercations, fights, or bad behaviour. I always felt safe, physically and socially. Most of the clientele would have been in their late teens or twenties, but it was common to see family groups with young children, as well as folk even older than me! It wasn’t always crowded and noisy, though. I loved arriving early when it was almost empty. I have great memories of sitting by the roaring open fire in the Tipi Bar or at the benches in the main area, catching up with my journal, capturing ideas for future blog posts, or waiting for friends. As well as local friends, I’ve shared time at Stack with Fran and others through photos, chat, and video calls.

Stack may no longer exist but I revisit in memory from time to time. It reminds me that I have a right to feel good about myself, and that it’s ok to enjoy myself socially. One of the first photos I took there remains a favourite, with its reminder that YOU ONLY LIVE ONCE.

Costa Coffee, Kingston Park

Costa is the latest of my favourite writing cafés, but it’s more than that. For one thing, it’s only a ten-minute walk from my home, making it the most readily accessible of my happy places. Before covid struck, I used to call in almost every day of the week: in the morning on my way into work, on Saturday mornings before I moved on to whatever else I was doing that day, and after lunch on Sundays. That routine was disrupted by the pandemic, but I’ve pretty much returned to daily visits. Costa is once again part of the day-to-day, week-to-week, pulse of my life.

This brings up some interesting distinctions between my happy places in terms of access, accumulated experience, and memory. Stack was somewhere I could visit as often as I wanted to. Before covid I went into Newcastle town centre most Saturdays, and Stack was part of my regular routine, whether I was with friends or hanging out on my own. It wasn’t just one of my favourite places. Like Costa, it was woven into the fabric of my life. In contrast, Langrigg and Waterhead are holiday places, visited during week-long vacations once or twice a year. Langrigg carries decades of aggregated experience. Waterhead has yet to accumulate much emotional resonance, although its memories and feelings are no less strong for being relatively new. And there’s scope to add to its store. It’s not closed to me as Langrigg is.

Two places that live in memory alone. Two that are current and open. What about the future? What happy places are yet to be discovered? I chanced on a quotation the other day that fits perfectly. I’ve been unable to locate the author, but the words bring comfort and hope: There are places you haven’t been where you already belong.

Over to You

I hope you’ve enjoyed reading about my happy places as much as I’ve enjoyed revisiting them. What are your happy places? Where in the world makes you smile? What makes them special for you? Are they places you get to visit regularly? I’d love to hear from you, either in the comments below or via our contact page.

 

Photos by the author.

 

A Postcard from My Lockdown Vacation

I don’t take vacations away from my friends. I take them with me!

If not for coronavirus this would be the final day of my week away at the cottage in Langrigg, Cumbria. I’d be having lunch somewhere, quite possibly the Beehive Inn at Eamont Bridge. Veggie lasagne and chips, and a half-pint of something. Instead, I’m sitting in my garden at home.

The cottage booking was cancelled, of course. Hire car too. Instead of a week visiting places up and down the east coast — Holy Island, Bamburgh, Alnwick Garden, Morpeth, Belsay, Blyth — and a week in the Lake District, I’ve spent the fortnight at home in lockdown. No car. No trips out. No visiting friends and family. A weekly walk to the supermarket for groceries. Occasional visits to the local corner shop. My daily walk for exercise. The house. The garden.

Before the holiday I’d had three weeks working from home. That wasn’t easy and I’m not looking forward to getting back to it. It was all so new, strange, and scary. The country — indeed much of the world — in lockdown and no idea how long our lives would be put on hold. It’s the end of the fifth week of lockdown here in the UK and to use an overworked phrase it has become the new normal.

But five weeks and one staycation in, I can honestly say I’m doing okay. As I write that I feel a sense of embarrassment. Guilt. Shame, even. How can I be “doing okay”? This is a global pandemic. People are getting sick and dying every day. Many have lost jobs, homes, loved ones. Education at all levels is in stasis. Parents are trying to keep their children safe, entertained and learning while dealing with their own issues. People are short — some desperately so — of money, food, and hope.

And here I am, on the final day of what has turned out to be a rewarding and peaceful fortnight at home.

I’m aware of how privileged my situation is. I may not want to go back to work on Monday but I have a job to go to that is as secure as any are these days. I’m healthy and not in need of anything essential. I’m classed as a key worker and I know I’m playing my part but like many others, I wonder if I’m doing enough.

One of my best friends enrolled for the NHS Volunteer Responder scheme and has been supporting people from home while she is in isolation. I considered doing the same but it would mean pulling back from the friends and loved ones I’m already supporting — and who support me — on a daily basis, pandemic or not.

I’ve written elsewhere about how important it is to me, and for me, to keep in close touch with people. As well as — hopefully — helping others navigate these times, it’s vital to my wellbeing. I’ve shared photos from my holiday on social media as I would have done if I’d been out and about each day visiting familiar and new places. It’s been a challenge at times to find things to photograph about the house or in the garden or on my daily walk, but it’s also been fun. I think it’s honed my photographer’s eye, and brought to my attention things I might otherwise have overlooked.

I’ve made notes in my memory journal as I normally do on holiday and kept my regular diary of course. On the face of it, there’s not been a lot to record. Days in lockdown are inevitably similar but there have been some genuine highlights that have meant a great deal to me. I’ve especially enjoyed video calls with friends, sharing the sights and sounds on my evening walks, visits to the shops, and birdsong in the garden. In turn, friends have brought me into their homes, gardens, and lives.

These are simple things and I was sharing like this with people before coronavirus hit. But I think we’re all more aware now of what really matters to us, and are doing all we can to connect and stay connected. It’s not all sunshine and rainbows, of course. Some of the conversations I’ve had recently have touched on darker themes including depression, anxiety, suicidality and self-harm; money and employment worries; concern for family, friends, and loved ones including beloved pets; healthcare; politics — and of course the pandemic itself. We must be able to acknowledge these and the emotions and thoughts that accompany them. Acknowledge them, and share with people we trust.

A friend told me this morning she’s keeping going by staying busy and supporting and encouraging others. Another friend described how she’d connected with someone whose story gave her the courage to share her own. Another supports her best friend, the way Fran and I are there for each other. Talking isn’t always enough, of course, and I look for other ways to help where I can.

I’d wondered if there was much point taking these two weeks of annual leave when I’d be stuck at home, but I’m glad I did. It’s been a valuable time for me. No matter how things go in the weeks and months ahead I will look back on this fortnight with gratitude. I always say I don’t take holidays away from my friends; I take them along with me. That’s never been more true than now. Thank you for being with me on my lockdown staycation.

 

How I Unplugged the Christmas Machine and Created Stable Holidays

By Julie A. Fast

I love Christmas. I like the music and the colors. I’m listening to the Charlie Brown Christmas Soundtrack as I write this! I love the food and the snow and the lights on the houses. It is not a religious holiday for me, but one that I associate with really good childhood memories and a lot of family events.

And yet, there is also the bipolar disorder side of Christmas. Bipolar is an illness triggered by change, even if the change is positive. I write about triggers in my book Take Charge of Bipolar Disorder. For all of my adult life I’ve loved Christmas, but once my bipolar started in my late teens, I kept getting sick at this time of year.

It took me years to figure out why. My bipolar diagnosis at age 31 helped, but I still wasn’t able to handle the up and down emotions during the holiday season here in the States. (Please feel free to substitute the holiday you choose to celebrate.)

Even after my diagnosis and creating my management system I lived with very serious depression and paranoia for many years. No matter how hard I tried I could not stay stable during the holidays. Each year I would promise myself that the time between Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year’s Eve — our biggest holiday celebrations in the United States — would not make me sick.

I usually failed.

Despite having plenty of people around me I had many lonely times. It was my own behavior and the illness itself that caused this. I knew I had to change if I wanted to have a positive time during the holidays. Here is what I’ve done over the past twenty years to make the holiday season a better experience. I won't lie to you and say that the holidays are easy. Nope! But they are SO much better than in the past and that creates happiness during an often stressful time.

1. Finances. I can’t keep myself stable and deal financially with supporting myself if I buy gifts during the holidays. I stopped giving gifts to adults over twenty years ago. I read a book called Unplug the Christmas Machine that changed my life. I give gifts to my nephew — and have done so for seventeen years — but adults and I have a different Christmas relationship now. It’s about being together, family, friends and good food. I simply can’t do the presents. No one has to do presents if they don’t want to! If presents are something you enjoy and if they are something you can afford, then go for it. But if you’re like me and the crowds and cost and pressure actually make you more ill and really affect your bank balance, you have permission to stop.

2. Say no if you need to. You can use the ideas in my previous post on saying no to explain to others that your choices are often far more about bipolar than what you as a person want to do. I want to say yes to most things, but there is no way I could stay stable if I said yes too much during the holidays. But (there is always this darn but with bipolar) I then feel lonely at having to say no in order to stay well. Finding that balance during the holidays is hard but I keep trying.

3. Take a moment right now to look back on holidays of the past. What worked? What didn’t work? Make a list. Be nice to yourself and change what you can and plan to make more changes in the future. The holidays show up every year! There is plenty of time for us to change. This is the year to start the process of creating holidays that work for you!

4. Plan now and do something small for this year. Keep a journal on what you go through so that you can make the BIG changes next year. This is how I progress. If you don't have plans yet and worry that you will be lonely, there is time to find a group who wants to meet YOU. There is always a place for us in the world. Sometimes, we just have to find it. I like the group www.Meetup.com for meeting new people. They do have holiday events that are open to all people!

Happy Holidays. Let’s Treat Bipolar First and have the best holidays possible.

 

About the Author

Julie A. Fast was diagnosed with bipolar disorder and a separate psychotic disorder in 1995. She is the author of Loving Someone with Bipolar Disorder, Take Charge of Bipolar Disorder, Get it Done When You’re Depressed and The Health Cards Treatment System for Bipolar Disorder. Julie runs the award winning Bipolar Happens blog, is a columnist and blogger for BP Magazine, and won the Mental Health America journalism award for the best mental health column in the US. Julie was the recipient of the Eli Lily Reintegration award for her work in bipolar disorder advocacy. She is a bipolar disorder expert for the Dr.Oz and Oprah created site ShareCare.

Julie is CEU certified and regularly trains health care professionals including psychiatric professionals, social workers, therapists and general practitioners on bipolar disorder management skills. She also educates the public on how cannabis marijuana affects people who have bipolar disorder and psychotic disorders. She was the original consultant for Claire Danes for the show Homeland and is on the mental health expert registry for People Magazine. She works as a coach for parents and partners of people with bipolar disorder. She struggles a lot due to bipolar disorder. Friendships keep her going.

You can find more about her work at www.JulieFast.com and www.BipolarHappens.com. Her Facebook pages include Julie A. Fast, The Stable Table for parents and health care professionals, and The Stable Bed for partners. You can watch her talk at the Oxford Union here.

 

Old Memories and New: A Stroll down Memory Lane

“Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing
and rightdoing there is a field.
I'll meet you there.”

― Rumi

I’m on holiday this week at a cottage in the English Lake District I’ve been visiting for decades.

Each evening rain or shine I walk to the village. It’s a mile each way, give or take, but I can be out a couple of hours. I amble. I stop to watch the sheep, rabbits, and birds. And I think.

Over the years I’ve had many folk with me in my thoughts as I’ve walked the single track road to Great Musgrave. So many that long ago I named it Memory Lane. A very few have joined me on phone or video calls. It’s a joy to share special places with those close in heart if not always in miles.

Not all the memories are easy, but they all get to be here. Memory Lane can be a place of healing too. And there’s always room for more. As a friend said to me the other day, it’s good to make new memories. It can help cleanse us, move us forward. Sometimes it’s just nice to layer new memories on old.

So tonight, once again, I will walk the path I know so well. Maybe I’ll meet you there and we’ll make new memories together.

 

No Promises Asked For, Offered, or Needed. A Vacation Postcard to My Best Friend.

Monday July 9, 2018

Dear Fran

It is 7:10 p.m. here in the UK. 2:10 p.m. with you in Maine. This hour is our hour. Usually we would be on Skype, catching up on our news and our plans. Just hanging out together, as friends do the world over no matter where they live or how far apart in miles those places might be.

This isn’t a normal week, though, is it? I am on vacation here at Ambleside in the English Lake District. Travel – on either my part or yours – inevitably means some disruption to our routine. One Skype call per day instead of two, for example. Or shorter calls. Occasionally none. That used to hurt. These days not. Or not so much. We have learned to trust.

We are doing okay so far this week! We had video calls on Saturday and Sunday evenings, down by the jetty opposite the fish and chip shop. It is always fun to be on with you when I am “out and about,” able to not merely tell you what’s going on for me but show you.

The lake here at Ambleside (technically, where we are staying is called Waterhead, but it is part of the town of Ambleside). The roar of motorbikes leaving the car park next to where we were sitting yesterday. (Sadly, Skype doesn’t yet permit the sharing of smells: I would so have liked to share with you the tangy aroma of exhaust fumes as one biker revved her Harley in my face!) I showed you inside the Wateredge Inn, your first English pub. Maybe next time we will stay for a drink.

We touched a couple of times on chat earlier today to share our respective good mornings, and our weights. (At 185.2 lbs mine was close to the lowest it has been in many months which is especially rewarding given I’m on vacation when good practice is harder to maintain.)

No call today, though. Whilst I am enjoying the peace and tranquility of Borrans Park at the very northernmost point of Windermere (note I say tranquility, not silence: I can hear the lapping of waves at the shoreline, the call of birds in the air and on the water, voices from the pub, traffic, and a troupe of teenagers making their way in a very orderly fashion through the park) – whilst I am enjoying all this and taking photos and writing these words to share it with you later – you are out with friends having adventures of your own!

All being well – no promises asked for, offered, or needed – we will have our call tomorrow evening. And then you are off on a mini vacation of your own to Monhegan island! Four days. Three nights. No promises asked for, offered, or needed – but we will do our best to connect. To share words, the sounds of our voices, video, photos – the essence of who and where we are in the moment.

Because the moment is what we have to share. It is all any of us have. Seven plus years of moments have brought us to here as best friends. A heap more will carry us wherever we are set to go. Calls or not, Fran, I will be with you when you are away. As you are with me here today.

Hah! You just messaged me:

Milkshake AND ice cream. On boat.

– I figure you’re having fun! It’s not just that we are best friends, of course, is it? There is more to it than that. There is trust. And honesty. And vigilance. You messaged me earlier today:

Should I bring risperdal? I wonder if I am bordering on mania.

You mean today? Or for your trip? Definitely on the trip (it is on your packing list already). Worth bringing with you today if you are asking the question.

And so, at the mention of “milkshake AND ice cream,” I remind you to keep an eye out for that edge of mania. And that is how we are. We can switch seamlessly from whatever it might be that we are doing or talking about, into a deep and yet simple caring awareness that works both ways. (Not everyone gets that – that you are here as much for me as I am for you. In different ways, perhaps, but no less.) Thank you.

See you soon.

Marty

 

Six Things I’d Have Quite Liked to Do in 2017—How Did I Get On?

Back in January I posted a list of six things I’d quite like to do in 2017. So how did I get on?

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1. Volunteer with Time to Change

ACHIEVED

Following on from previous volunteering experiences with mental health charity Time to Change, I had a fantastic time at Newcastle Pride in July. You can read how I got on, as well as the thoughts of others who took part, in my post What Is It Like to Volunteer with Time to Change?

If you’d like to get involved with Time to Change yourself in any capacity, check out their Champions page.

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2. Visit a Pub

ACHIEVED

This might not seem a particularly challenging objective but I rarely visit pubs, apart from when my wife Pam and I are on holiday. I specifically wanted to visit Wylam Brewery at the Palace of Arts in Newcastle upon Tyne. I achieved this goal in May, finding that the place fully lived up to my hopes.

I visited two other pubs of note this year. The 15th-century Kirkstone Pass Inn on the A592 Kirkstone Pass road is the highest pub in Cumbria, and a rare delight boasting an extensive and delicious menu.

In November I accepted an invitation to speak at Talking FreEly’s second mental health event in Ely, Cambridgeshire. I travelled down the day before and stayed at the Nyton Guest House. I had a fabulous meal and a couple of pints at the Minster Tavern in the centre of town.

You can read about my visit to Ely in my blog post Community, Cake, and Conversation, and watch my talk here.

A former favourite and Britain’s highest pub, the Tan Hill Inn featured in a Christmas 2017 tv advert for Waitrose supermarket. The advert is pretty cool but the pub itself failed to deliver when Pam and I visited in May. We looked elsewhere when we were back in the area in October. The Pack Horse Inn in Keswick, and The Beehive Inn at Eamont Bridge near Penrith are both worth a visit.

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3. Fundraise for a Mental Health Charity

ACHIEVED

I didn’t do as much as I had intended, but Fran and I again took part in the NAMI Maine Walk in October.

Fran did the walk in person in South Portland; I took an equivalent walk here in Newcastle.

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4. See HTLT on a College or University Reading List

PARTIALLY ACHIEVED

Fran and I are keen to get our book High Tide, Low Tide: The Caring Friend’s Guide to Bipolar Disorder into libraries and onto the reading lists for relevant school, college, or university courses.

As far as we know, our book isn’t on any course reading lists yet. However, it is achieving recognition in the professional sector and various lists and libraries.

• One of our highlights was seeing High Tide, Low Tide reviewed in The Psychologist, journal of the British Psychological Society.
• Our book also featured in Abilities, Canada’s Lifestyle Magazine for people with disabilities, with a readership of about 60,000.
• High Tide, Low Tide was accepted into the Royal Society of Medicine Library, and is to be found in a growing number of libraries around the world.
• Our book was added to the Book Club and Counselling Students Book List at The Counsellors Cafe earlier this year, and to the Community Book List at MentalHealthHour.com.
• Our podcast interview with John Wilson is in the OnlineEvents resource library for professionals in the counselling, psychology, and caring sectors.

If you are involved with training courses or programs and feel our book could be relevant, we’d love to hear from you!

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5. Bring My Weight Back under 180 Pounds

NOT ACHIEVED

In January 2017 my weight was hovering around 190 pounds.

As the graph shows, I’ve not achieved my target of 180 pounds (yet!) but I brought my weight down significantly and maintained for a good while between 184–186. Christmas has added a couple of pounds back, so I need to pay attention. I will carry this objective forward into 2018.

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6. Complete a Mental Health Course

ACHIEVED

I completed the excellent free online Ally Training Course offered by NoStigmas. The three self-paced modules cover Self Care, Peer Support, and Advocacy and I was impressed by the content and presentation of the material. I recommend it to anyone interested in mental health support of oneself and others.

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Did you set yourself any goals for 2017? How did you get on? I will post my Things I Would Quite Like to Do in 2018 list in the New Year.

Marty

 

Let It Go: Reducing Holiday Triggers for Your Child

By Tricia

I believe there are a great many expectations that we put on our children during the holidays. We expect them to help decorate the tree with the family, go shopping with us, maybe wrap presents, and the worst part of all is having to spend time with extended family, oftentimes crammed into too tight of quarters.

And we expect all of this to be done with a smile on their face. They must be polite to Aunt Rita and Uncle Joe who are always making jokes at their expense. They have to accept hugs and “Merry Christmas!” from people they only see once a year, again all with a smile.

Maybe we could let them off the hook at least a little this year?

If you have never suffered from any sort of mental illness, you likely do not realize the extra stress that this puts on those who do. Most kids enjoy decorating the Christmas tree, but if your child doesn’t want to this year, why would you want to force him? Nobody enjoys being made to do things, but kids who suffer from bipolar or any other mental illness struggle with it much more.

If I said to you “Hey, there is something really fun for me, and it would make a great memory for me, too, but it is going to be really stressful for you,” would you want to do it? Especially, imagine you are trying to do what the other person wants, but you don’t look happy enough and so they start grumbling that you are ruining the whole thing. How would that make you feel?

Now let’s think about those crowded stores. All rushing and waiting and being too hot and waiting some more and some more etc.. The people around you are all grumpy and being rude. Your parent, who dragged you along in the first place, is one of those grumpy and rude people because again you didn’t seem to be enjoying this forced shopping experience enough. And now this memorable occasion has been ruined by you, who didn’t want to be there in the first place.

I hope you’re getting the feeling so far. I sure am my anxiety has gone up by 10% at least. But we are not done yet. Now we get wrap all of these gifts.

So the wrapping begins with you making a minimal effort because it’s wrapping with your parents. It’s work you didn’t want to be a part of, and you’re being told: “No do it like this. Wait, you’re using too much tape…” How is this holiday shaping up for you so far?

Now you are on your way to Grandma and Grandpa’s house where all the aunts and uncles and annoying little cousins will be. You walk in the door to be immediately greeted by Aunt Rita who yells, “Hey, Joe, look who is here. It’s that grumpy kid from over at your sister’s house,” or some equally rude thing that you are meant to smile and laugh at like they are funny and not rude. You try and find a corner away from everyone, only to be told to quit sulking. You should be talking with everyone because otherwise “you are being rude.” And on the day will go, in just that way.

Are these the memories you were hoping for? Probably not. So maybe we can rethink it just a bit. I’m not saying they have to go hide in their room the entire season, but you could make it a little easier and more enjoyable for all of you by taking their likes and dislikes into consideration, because this is a nicer story than it really could turn out to be. Depending on their age and how their symptoms affect them, you could be starting an all-out war, and later you will be sitting in the rubble wondering what happened. All of these activities could be triggering them again and again, and eventually there will be fall out.

Time to decorate the Christmas tree but he is not having it? Okay, it’s not the end of the world and good memories do not come from being forced to decorate a tree. So you let it go.

So how about we try again. Your kiddo loves going to Starbucks, so you say, “Hey, I have to run and get Grandma’s present. Would you like to go with me, and we can stop and get Starbucks together afterward?” Oh yeah, that will probably go over much better. Now you have taken their interest and mixed it with your desire to shop together, but by keeping it small you are minimizing the stress and triggering the reward center of the brain with that sugary coffee or cocoa, depending on their age of course.

Now you get home and would like help with wrapping the gift, but he doesn’t want to. No problem, keep the good memory you made and let it go.

Ah! It is time for the long-anticipated trip to Grandma and Grandpa’s house. Your kid walks in the door and there is Aunt Rita. Time to intervene. “Hey, Rita Merry Christmas,” you say as you slip between the two of them. “Why don’t you go and put the gifts under the tree,” you say to your kid, effectively giving him an escape route. As he goes to find his corner, you let him go. No harm done and you get to enjoy your time with your other family members, while he gets to not be triggered by all of the chaos that can be so overwhelming.

About the Author

I am the proud mom of two amazing young men, one of whom was diagnosed with bipolar 1 at the age of eleven. He is now living successfully and managing his illness on his own.

I am a Youth Mental Health Advocate, Certified Family and Partnership Professional, and NAMI Volunteer.

You can find me on my Parenting For Good Mental Health website, on Twitter (@pfgmentalhealth) and on Facebook.

 

From Here to Edisto: My Life as a GPS Angel

As I mentioned in my speech at a recent mental health event, I have occasionally been called upon to act as a personal SatNav (GPS) service for Fran when she’s traveling.

When Fran’s away from home it’s often easier for me to look stuff up online than it is for her on her cell phone. I’ve booked hotels on her behalf and checked out restaurants and places to visit. I’ve even acted as an emergency SatNav, using a combination of Facebook chat, Google maps and an app called Glympse which lets you share your location with someone. It’s never boring with Frannie!

I had opportunity to reprise this role last weekend, as Fran travelled with a friend from Portland, Maine, to Charleston in South Carolina—a journey of 1,100 miles (around 19 hours on the road). We’d planned the trip well in advance. Jim would rent the car and do the driving. Fran would navigate, a challenge she was keen to take on even if she doubted her abilities. I would be on hand if needed.

We explored a number of navigation options. Google Maps would work, but is a bit basic. Waze was recommended by friends but we didn’t find it particularly intuitive. Researching alternatives, I found HERE WeGo. It seemed straightforward to set up and we liked the fact Fran could download the maps she’d need ahead of time to save data on the road. Fran also had a printed AAA TripTik Travel Planner. Glympse would let me track Fran’s location in the event they got lost or needed me to assist.

Hours before they departed, Fran realised we’d not considered the cost of road tolls. A quick online search turned up Tollsmart, an app which gave details of each individual toll along their route including which accepted cash and which didn’t. Fran had an old E-ZPass unit, but the battery was dead. (E‑ZPass is an electronic toll collection system used on most tolled roads, bridges, and tunnels in the Midwestern and Northeastern United States.) We discussed alternatives methods of payment and I checked the options offered by their car rental company. This page has information on not paying too much on tolls when using a rental car.

Fran and Jim got on the road around 11:30 a.m. and were soon making good progress. Their original plan was to break their journey overnight in Fredericksburg, Virginia, and Fran and I had researched a few suitable hotels in advance. An hour or so into the journey they realised Fredericksburg was a little optimistic and decided to look for somewhere a little closer.

We’re thinking of stopping at Wilmington Delaware, can you find anywhere to stay?

I checked Booking.com and soon found one likely place—the White Oaks Motel at Pennsville—as well as a couple of others in the area.

Fran: Jim asks if we could get a place about an hour south of there. Tomorrow will be a long day and we need to check in around 4pm.

Martin: I found one in the Baltimore area about 3 hours from where you are now. It has various rooms available but doesn’t look as nice as the White Oaks one.

Fran: White Oaks it is then. Now to book.

Martin: Yayay

Fran: Booked. Now to put the address in the app. Jim says Big thanks to Marty. I think we all made a good call. Can you help us get to the motel?

Martin: You’ve put it in the app?

Fran: Yes but when I use the GPS I get confused. And the voice isn’t loud enough. Is it far from our path?

Martin: No it’s not far from your path. Program the app from wherever you are now, to the hotel. You are on I-95 now?

Fran: Garden State Parkway

I found that on the map but it seemed some way off the expected route.

Martin: Can you put Glympse on for a few minutes so I can see where you are?

Fran: Done. Are we on track? Below Asbury Park.

Martin: I haven’t received an email re the Glympse. Never mind. Looks like you are a little bit over to the east. Get onto 195 West.

Fran: I think we missed the exit.

Fran called me on Skype and we had a short call to confirm what road they were on and what they planned to do next. Once they were back on track I sent Fran screenshots and other details to get them to the motel.

Fran: You’re an angel. Do you have the motel number so we can tell them we’ll be late.

Martin: One moment... Here you go... When you get chance, it would help me to know where you are.

Fran: Just got on NJ Turnpike south for 195

Martin: Almost exactly one hour to go. You’re doing good!

It was about half past midnight here in the UK. Confident they’d be fine, I said goodnight and went to bed. Fran messaged me an hour or so later to let me know they’d arrived safely.

I am glad to be on this journey.. so far! We’ve navigated things well. Whew! Only 11 hour and 18 minutes from here to Edisto Beach (with no delays, stops, mistakes.. lord help me). We are supposed to be there around 4p. Sigh. We will get up at 5.30.

Five thirty a.m. for them is ten thirty a.m. here in the UK. I messaged Fran next morning to make sure they’d not overslept.

Beep! Beep! Early morning call for weary travellers.

She replied almost immediately with characteristic (and half-joking) candour.

Fran: Fuck you! It’s too early!

Martin: Good morning Fran! Good morning Jim!

Fran: Good morning! Jim says hello!

They were soon on the road. Fran sent me a short Glympse so I could see where they were. This time it worked perfectly. She was a little concerned about her phone data and asked me to check it for her: something I do when she is away from home. It was fine. We chatted on and off along the way.

Fran: It’s mostly I-95 until we get close to Edisto.

Martin: Yes. It should be easier going/navigating today. You both did really well yesterday.

Fran: I’m learning the satnav!!!

When they got to Selma I sent them a screenshot showing how far they had travelled since leaving Portland the morning before. They had about five hours left to go.

Martin: The U.S. is so BIG!!!!

Fran: YES! Wonder how many hours across the country?

Martin: I’d sooner take the train on something real long.

Fran: Me too.

Martin: So that’s something we can do some time!

They were making good progress, but you can never be complacent.

Truck ahead of us just went off road but recovered. That was unreal. But we’re safe. Damn. Send angels.

Fran put Glympse on again for the final hour or so of their journey. I watched as they missed a turn, turned back and corrected themselves.

Fran: We’re here! Our place is unbelievable. I’ll do a video of it tomorrow to show you.

Martin: You’ve both done brilliantly! I’ll let you settle in, and catch up with you tomorrow. Goodnight!

Next morning I saw Fran had posted this to her Facebook page:

After getting lost in Jersey, staying over in a Bates-like hotel, running over the treads of a truck tire, and watching a fuel truck run off the road and back on again (way scary) 22 hours on the road! We practically kissed the ground in Edisto Beach, South Carolina.

A friend had commented “Yikes! I’m glad you made it safe.”

Fran: There were angels ♥

 

Taking My Mental Illnesses to Italy for a Holiday, by Peter McDonnell

Last week I returned from a three week holiday in Italy. Because of my mental illness (grandiosely delusional psychosis and anxiety, more easily described as being ‘Crazy’—a phrase I am comfortable with) I haven’t been away from my hometown much since about 2004. These days I am so much better though, hence the bold move to leave my hometown for three weeks. I have put in a lot of work towards getting better, especially in my anxiety, and with some good luck as well, I have considered myself to be pretty much recovered since about 2016. In 2016 I flew to Ireland for my niece’s christening and in 2017 I flew to Holland for my cousin’s wedding, despite being afraid of flying, an endeavour that has the power to shake me to the core. These two trips were successful and enjoyable though, the flying was bearable, and they made me confident that I could safely enjoy three weeks in Italy, without my fading mental health issues getting in the way.

I had a good time in Italy, we stayed at a large villa next to San Gimignano, Tuscany, for two weeks, with family, including my nieces, three and one years old. My mum and I have gotten good at babysitting them, we see them quite a bit. I have found looking after them therapeutic and it has made me a wiser, more confident and happier person, even though two of them at once is challenging. For our third week, my mum, auntie and uncle and I went to Lake Como for four days, then Lake Maggiore for three days, then home to Hampshire.

I am so glad I went, that I was able to go without the holiday being ruined by mental health problems. Five years ago if someone suggested a holiday, which people did a few times, the answer was a confident ‘No’. There was no way I could leave my home overnight, what if I had a panic attack?

Italy was beautiful though. I was apprehensive about the flying, but that was all. We flew to Milan and stayed at the Airport hotel the first night. The flying went really well. It was only for one hour and a half, and it was smooth, in a jet powered Airbus. The next day, travelling with my mum, auntie and uncle, we got in the hired nine seater van, with manual transmission, and drove the five hour journey south to San Gimignano, about 30 miles from Florence. My uncle did a great job driving it, he usually drives an automatic car in the US and it was not a familiar experience to him. It was a bit funny when we scraped against other cars on the way out of the airport car park. To begin with there were some difficult gear changes, some close calls, and lots of ‘shit’s and ‘sorry guys’ before the driving became second nature to my uncle. Oh and the parking brake, or hand brake as we call it in England was a constant unremembered nuisance for the first hour or so. They don’t really use hand brakes in America as most of the cars there are automatic.

We stopped off in Parma for lunch and it was very hot and sunny, even for Italy in August. I felt comfortable in the van, amusing myself with my phone watching the GPS working on Google Maps helping to direct us southward. The roads were traffic jam free, and they sometimes wound around mountains with some spectacular scenery. We got to the villa at about six, and it was nice. A big pool, four double bedrooms with en suite bathrooms, and it had makeshift foldaway beds, and had plenty of space for us all, twelve of us.

There were wineries and vineyards dotted around the landscape, this being Chianti country, which we went to for tours and tastings, and with the villa on top of a big hill, we could see them from the pool and villa grounds. The grounds were shared with lots of nine inch (nose to tail) lizards which liked to hang around basking. On the second day I saw a snake chasing one, and asked the villa owner, Vittorio, if they were dangerous. ‘Oh no,’ he said.

It was quite spectacular on the villa grounds, a lovely sunny place, with many olive trees, grapevines hanging over the two outside eating areas, a big pomegranate tree, two barbecues, and half decent Wifi, depending on how wisely we chose our bedrooms.

We took a train into Florence, where I saw the Ponte Vecchio and Michelangelo’s David, two things I’d wanted to see for years. There was good shopping in Florence too, especially if you like leather. Two thirds of the shops are leather shops.

After two weeks, eight of the party went back to our homes in Denver, Colorado; Bristol, England; and San Anselmo, California; leaving the rest of us to spend a week at the Italian lakes. I had had two amazing weeks at the villa, my mental health was never an issue and I felt completely happy and comfortable there, and I had no reason to think that another week in Italy would be difficult in any way. So we got in the nine seater van and headed for Lake Como, with a stop off at Milan Airport to change from a van to a regular car.

It was at this point where I noticed my psychosis and anxieties trying to upset my happy brain. I don’t really know why, I think it had something to do with the negative emotion of having to say goodbye to some of my family, knowing it might be a while before I saw them again. My nieces and their parents lived close to my mum and I for their whole lives, but two months ago they moved to America, so the reality that I couldn’t see them for a while and have them in my life a lot began to dawn. There was nothing else I can think of that was making me anxious, although I am over sensitive to cloudy weather especially when I was used to the blazing sun. On our last day at the villa the weather turned and the next three days were cloudy with rain.

The way I was feeling was like I’d forgotten to take my medication. But I wasn’t that bad really. I was feeling like I had defeated my mental health problems at least 95% recently, but it was becoming more like 80%, so like I say it wasn’t particularly bad, I was able to keep it at bay, but for the four days staying at Bellagio on Lake Como I couldn’t relax properly. I found myself taking quite a few smoke breaks at the apartment we were staying in, twenty metres away from the lake shore.

It’s very steeply hilled at the shore of some of Lake Como, with lots of dwellings all situated very compactly, narrow roads, and not much space to just lie there and relax. Because of my mental health problems I was oversensitive to being all crammed in to the towns and felt a bit claustrophobic. To someone without mental health problems it wasn’t an issue at all. But Lake Como was strikingly attractive, from my bedroom window at the apartment I could see the Alps in the distance.

My first view of Lake Como was of clouds hanging over the hills, and rain, and wasn’t the piercing blue water and sunshine like I’d seen on the TV. But we took some boat trips anyway, and I enjoyed them, 80% of the time. We had some nice food at local restaurants but by this time we were getting a bit bored of pasta and pizza. We went on a hydrofoil one day which was fun.

I did start to relax more when we had packed our things and got into the car to drive to Lake Maggiore. The sunny weather had returned, and the first view of Lake Maggiore was like a postcard picture. We stayed at a hotel on the lakeshore at Stresa, and I was happy to be almost completely relaxed again. Lake Maggiore was not so densely populated, the hills weren’t so close to the water’s edge, and there was lots of space. We had lunch on a boat trip northwards on the lake, and crossed into Switzerland, where we took a scenic train through the mountains (which may or may not have been the Alps) back down to Stresa. We had two hours in the lake town of Lacarno in Switzerland where we saw chocolate shops and that a Big Mac in McDonalds costs about ten pounds.

Our flight home from Milan was scheduled for midday, with British Airways. We arrived at the baggage check in at 9.30, at the back of a queue of 100 people. After fifteen minutes we hadn’t moved so I started to worry about missing our flight. There were four desks for British Airways passengers. One of them was closed, and two of them were for business and first class passengers. I wasn’t very happy about that. As we neared the front of the queue, after an hour and a half, it became clear that we had enough time, but I was still annoyed at all the chancers trying to skip the line and use the business and first class check in.

I began questioning any passengers who went to the first class check in. ‘Excuse me, are you business or first class passengers?’ I would say. ‘Yes, yes we are’ ‘Okay no problem, carry on.’ Twice though I asked and two separate couples were just trying their luck. ‘Excuse me, are you business or first class passengers?’ ‘No, but we have already checked in online and are just dropping off our bags’. I said ‘Yeah us too, but we have been queuing for an hour and a half now, and you need to go to the back of the line. ‘ There was no way I was letting anyone take advantage like that, and I was a bit stressed. I also told someone off for trying to push into the queue at one of the shops in the airport.

I don’t like flying. The journey outward was smooth, but I was angry at the turbulence on the way home. I wanted to be like normal people who are mostly unfazed by flying. I said to myself ‘never again’ in the middle of some panicky moments as we flew over Paris. I was pissed off because I wanted to enjoy it, but every time I glanced out of the window my body and soul felt more unsettled than I had ever felt in my whole life. I think I can do a short flight, but there is no way I can fly to America for example. But I got home in one piece, and it was amazing to have done it and now these happy memories and the success of meeting the challenge to leave home for three weeks will stay with me for the rest of my life.

A quick word about challenges and progression.

A few years ago I was so stricken with mental health problems that I could hardly leave the house. In 2011 I thought I’d try going back to college to learn something, as I was not doing much with my life. There is a college one minute’s walk away from where I live, so I was happy to try, knowing that I could come home quickly if the anxiety came. I stayed at college for three years, nearly full time, taking a carpentry and joinery class, and I didn’t miss a single lesson. It taught me so much and now I can fix things around the house and I like DIY. I have three paid part time jobs now (in 2010 I was unable to work) and two of them are as a carpenter and joiner. Since 2011 I have also passed my driving test and I now drive a lot.

In 2010 I had no hope of ever being able to spend time with another person in such close proximity like being in a car with them, but I can do it now and I have driven to London lots of times. Traffic jams were a real stumbling block, but I can do them now too. Leaving town doesn’t scare me anymore either. I was afraid of train journeys, but I like them now. I can socialise however I want and am not anxious about social situations. I have taken six plane journeys in the last year, I didn’t fly for 15 years because I was afraid of flying. I have joined a gym and I work out and eat healthy. I have written a book about my experiences with mental illness, and I am currently looking for a literary agent.

I was an unfunctioning mess not so long ago, but I have met challenge after challenge and put in the work to get better, and I am the happiest I have ever been, living life to the full and usually loving it. I’ve come so far and I hope that this might encourage people to keep going in their own battles. The only thing I have difficulties with these days is turbulence on aeroplanes, and sometimes even that doesn’t bother me.

About the Author

If you would like to read more, Peter has written a book about his experiences with mental illness and recovery, called Viva Mental Health, and has a website to support it with book extracts and more. Please visit www.petermcdonnellwriter.com.

 

A Behind the Scenes Look at My Latest Book Reading Videos

I recently updated our YouTube channel with four short videos of me reading excerpts from our book. I recorded them whilst on holiday at Bowness on Windermere in the English Lake District. I think the videos came out pretty well. I am standing outside. There are trees behind me. There’s a breeze blowing and I have to keep catching my hair back from my face. In a couple of places, I think you can hear sheep. I appear calm and composed, as though this was exactly how I had intended the recordings to go.

I thought you might be interested in the real story!

I’d taken my copy of High Tide, Low Tide on holiday, intending to record myself reading a selection of passages to share on our social media. On the Wednesday evening I set out on a short walk, looking for a suitable recording location. I wanted somewhere private enough that I’d not be interrupted or observed, away from traffic and other background noises, with suitable support for my smartphone on its mini tripod.

I headed north, in the direction of Ambleside. The map on my smartphone suggested I might get down to the lake, but when I got there it was all private access only. It was a lovely evening though, and quiet away from the main road. I wandered on along a narrow path, with trees to the left of me and fields to the right. I had a nice Skype call with Fran. I even saw a deer!

I found what I thought would be a good place. I fastened my phone on its mini tripod to a gate post, took out the book and began to record, but within minutes a lady came by walking her dog. We got talking, about the book (which was still in my hand) and about the local area. She told me how three hundred child survivors of the Holocaust were relocated to the Lake District after WWII. They stayed on what was then the village of Calgarth Estate, pretty much where the fields are now. You can read more of this moving story on the Lake District Holocaust Project website.

The nice dog lady walked with me most of the way back to the main road. I was disappointed not to have recorded anything, but I decided to go down to the jetty near the cottage and try there. There was no one there when I arrived. I sat on the bench and got set up, but no sooner had I started recording than the sound of shrieking rang out. Someone’s darling kids were enjoying themselves at the water’s edge nearby. Grrrrr!!! I packed up and headed back. I wasn’t happy! It seemed as though all my best efforts had come to nothing. I simply wasn’t destined to make these recordings!

I stopped by a gate, almost within sight of the cottage. The light was perfect. Someone was sure to come by if I had another go, but it was worth one last try. It took a few minutes to get my tripod secured to the gate. I had a couple of false starts, but managed to record four excerpts which I reckon came out okay. Phew!

As I headed back to the cottage, I was smiling.

The Recordings

How Much Help Is Enough? Can It Ever Be Too Much?

Do You Ever Feel Overwhelmed When Fran Is Suicidal?

What Happens When You Can't Be Together All the Time?

How Do You And Fran Get Through Your Darkest Days?

 

Using the Darktime

The following is excerpted from High Tide, Low Tide: The Caring Friend’s Guide to Bipolar Disorder, by Martin Baker and Fran Houston (Nordland Publishing, 2016). This section covers part of Fran’s two-week cruise from Amsterdam to New York aboard the MS Eurodam.

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Using the Darktime

Our first opportunity to connect properly was in Reykjavik, five days into the cruise. Fran was desperately fatigued, and in emotional and physical pain. She was relieved to have made it through the summer but fearful of the future. We had always known the summer would be hard, but instead of recuperating she faced finding somewhere to live, packing, leaving her community, and settling into somewhere new. It was not merely daunting, it was potentially dangerous.

Fran: I’ve missed you..
Martin: I’ve missed you too.
Fran: You help me beat my depression..
Mary: That’s because I come down there to find you, in the darkness where you are. I sit with you until you are ready to walk out again into the sunlight.
Fran: From this bleak harsh landscape..
Martin: Iceland?
Fran: Yes..
Martin: The landscape can be an analogy for your depression. Let’s use this part of the journey, this Darktime. Feel the sadness, and then leave it behind on these shores.
Fran: I don’t like this part of the trip.. Coming home.. It’s scary..
Martin: Find me a stronger word than scary.
Fran: Terrifying..
Martin: Good. If it’s terrifying then say so. Feel it fully. Because if you can feel it, it will keep you from falling deeper into depression.
Fran: I haven’t made the most of Norway and Iceland.. I don’t like them.. They are not warm like Germany..
Martin: On the way back to the ship, find me one thing that delights you. A smile. A ray of sunlight. Anything.

She messaged me later.

Fran: We sail soon..
Martin: What did you find for me?
Fran: The bus driver.. And a woman named Cindy who went to buy a swimsuit..
Martin: As you found two things I will ask for three tomorrow.
Fran: The blue of the water.. The brown of Mum’s eye.. The niceness of people caring for us..
Martin: I said tomorrow! That’s cheating! (Thank you.)

They were at sea for the next four days. We were able to chat when they reached Nanortalik in Greenland, and I was relieved to discover her mood had lifted a little. I didn’t expect us to be in touch again until they landed in Newfoundland, but some personal news required me to contact Fran the next day.

Despite the cost, we exchanged text messages throughout that day and for the remainder of the cruise. It helped Fran process her feelings from the summer and prepare for all she would face once she returned home. She was by turns angry, tearful, and depressed. Most of all, she was exhausted. One bright moment occurred as they reached Halifax, Nova Scotia. I was at work, and a colleague found a webcam that showed the Eurodam as it berthed at the ferry terminal.

Martin: Frannie, I have the ship on webcam! I watched you coming in. The camera is looking down on the ship from outside the terminal.
Fran: Would you see me if I waved?
Martin: Maybe! Are you at a window?
Fran: I could go up top on the back deck..
Martin: Yes do! Let me know when you get there!
Fran: OK.. I’m by the stacks..
Martin: I think I can see you! Walk about a bit.
Fran: I’m right by the railing..
Martin: Yes! I can see you! I am waving!
Fran: Can you see my big belly?
Martin: Haha! No but I can see you!
Fran: I’m going back down now.. I don’t have a coat and it’s cold..
Martin: Go and warm yourself up! I can’t believe I just saw you on webcam from all the way over here!
Fran: That was awesome.. Thank you for doing it with me..
Martin: Thank Barry, he found the webcam!
Fran: Thank you, Barry!

I took a screenshot of Fran waving, and shared it on our social media pages.

A little later she went ashore and we were able to talk. The call only lasted a few minutes, but it was our first since Amsterdam and helped us feel connected again.

 

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You can watch the live Halifax Pier 21 webcam here.

 

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High Tide, Low Tide: The Caring Friend’s Guide to Bipolar Disorder is available at: Amazon.ca | Amazon.com | Amazon.co.jp | Amazon.co.uk | Amazon.de | Amazon.es | Amazon.fr | Amazon.it | Barnes & Noble

 

Connection and Challenge: A Look Back at 2016

I don’t really do New Year Resolutions. Instead, I began 2016 by reaffirming the mantra which had served me well throughout the previous year:

Well boundaried. Well focused. Well challenged. Well loved.

In January, Fran signed up for Brené Brown’s online LIVING BRAVE semester, and for the next few months we worked through the lessons together. I read the books that accompanied the courses (Daring Greatly and Rising Strong) to Fran, and we shared our answers and responses to the weekly lessons. It was an intensely challenging experience for me. Early on, we were invited to explore our core life values (in my case, Connection and Challenge) and choose two or three areas in which to work (Brené Brown calls these “arenas”). I chose three, and will share one with you here. (The others I choose to keep private, as there is still work for me there.) The first arena I chose was: “To engage fully with local mental health groups.”

Within days, I was presented with the opportunity to volunteer for mental health charity Time to Change at Newcastle’s Mental Health Day. It was one of the scariest things I’d done in ages, but I stepped into the arena—and never looked back! You can read about my experiences here. I also volunteered with Time to Change at Newcastle’s Pride event in July, and was privileged to attend their Festive Networking event in December.

A chance encounter in my favourite coffee shop, Caffè Nero in Saint Mary’s Place, led me to the Newcastle Literary Salon. I wrote about the meeting in an open letter to Fran.

I got talking here at the cafe earlier with a guy who told me about a local writers’ group—Newcastle Literary Salon—which meets once a month. I looked them up and the next two meetings are on mental and physical illness. I will go along, and see if I can get a slot to read from our book. It’s scary to put myself out there in person, but that is part of what I’ve learned: to dare, to challenge myself—whether it’s doing a zip-wire slide from the Tyne Bridge to raise funds for Crisis, addressing the Mental Health First Aid team at Virgin Money, volunteering at the Time to Change Mental Health Day event, or appearing live on radio! I would never have done any of this if it were not for our friendship. Connection and challenge have become my watchwords.

The first Salon event I attended left a lasting impression on me, which I wrote about for the hastywords #BeReal blog series.

Courage and vulnerability were out in force last night at the Salon. I heard—really heard—people sharing words from the heart, from the guts of their personal experience. I connected with people I’d never met before, who knew nothing about me and about whom I knew nothing. I had fun. I felt my heart open. I made a new friend. I dared to be real amongst people who get what that means. I can’t wait until next time!

I’ve attended most of the monthly Salon meetings since then, and read aloud from our book on three occasions: June, July, and September. This fit perfectly with my twin values of Connection and Challenge. I remember especially one lady who approached me in person after my first live reading, to share how much my words had meant to her.

I’d like to take this opportunity to commemorate local poet Mark Potts, a Salon regular who died recently. I didn’t get to know Mark well at all, but he was someone whose performances I enjoyed, and who spoke to me—a newcomer to the literary scene—with warmth, and welcome in his eyes. He will be deeply missed by those who knew and loved him.

This year I have travelled both physically here in the UK—holidaying with my wife Pam in Brough (twice) and in Bowness—and virtually, accompanying Fran on trips in the US including New York City and Samoset.

When Pam and I stayed at Brough in April, Fran and I were eagerly awaiting confirmation of a publishing contract offer. I was floating that whole week. After three and a half years, we had found a home for our book. There would still be a great deal of work to be done, both before and after publication, but—we’d done it! On the final day of the holiday, news broke that the publisher had gone out of business. It was a huge disappointment, but something of a lucky escape. Had we been accepted six months earlier, it might have been hard to extricate ourselves from the mess. As it was, we had the satisfaction of knowing our book had been deemed worthy of publication. It did mean having to continue the search for a publisher or literary agent.

As things turned out, we didn’t have to wait long! Pam and I were on our next holiday, in July, when our son Mike messaged me to say the publisher he was working with on his novel was interested in seeing High Tide, Low Tide. Things moved quickly. Fran and I started working with Michael Kobernus from Nordland Publishing almost immediately. We signed our contract on August 8. One of the year’s highlights was the delighted shriek of excitement from one of my senior work colleagues on hearing the news! (No less noteworthy was pitching our book to the team conducting my bowel cancer screening examination. Connection and Challenge? You couldn’t make this stuff up!)

Our Facebook cover reveal event ran for ten hours straight. The official High Tide, Low Tide launch party was on October 1, which is also Fran’s birthday. We were delighted that so many of our friends were able to attend these events, both virtually and in person.

Later that month, I was proud to appear as a panellist in Maine Behavioral Healthcare’s annual It Takes a Community forum discussing social media and mental health. In November, Fran and I hosted a book party and fundraiser for Maine-based mental health nonprofit Family Hope at Blue.

At the close of the year, our book is “out there.” It is available for sale online at Amazon (Amazon UK) and Barnes & Noble, and in one highstreet bookshop: Longfellow Books in Portland, Maine. It is also available to borrow from the City Library here in Newcastle.

Fran and I have been blown away by the support and encouragement we’ve received, not just since our book was released but throughout the four years it took us to bring our dream to fruition. There are too many to thank individually, but we have recognised as many of you as possible in the Acknowledgements, which you can read using Amazon’s Look Inside feature.

We’ve been interviewed a number of times throughout the year. I’d like to give special thanks to Aimee Wilson, Steven Hesse, Diane Atwood, and Rebecca and Joe Lombardo for making us feel so welcome.

So, what’s next? I certainly achieved my 2016 ambition “to engage fully with local mental health groups” but I want to take it further. Mental health advocate and blogger Aimee Wilson, recently invited her followers to share their highlight from 2016 and their hopes for the year ahead. I responded:

1) Launch party for our book HIGH TIDE LOW TIDE!
2) To get more involved with Time to Change and other mental health folks

Aimee replied “Yay! Well 2 = more time with me!” which suits me just fine! Aimee, you are a great ambassador for Time to Change and a personal inspiration to me. I look forward to working with you in the year to come.

Book marketing will be a huge part of 2017. I’ve learned a lot, especially from book marketing guru Rachel Thompson, but there is a lot more to learn and a lot of work putting it into practice. Rachel’s new book BadRedhead Media 30-Day Book Marketing Challenge is a must-read and is on my Kindle already. A related challenge is to blog more regularly than I have done to date.

Fran and I are particularly keen to connect with trainers, tutors, and organisations interested in adding High Tide, Low Tide to reading and resource lists. If you are able to help in any way, please get in touch!

Whatever happens in 2017, I welcome the Challenges and Connections it brings. As for my mantra: I don’t think I can improve on the one I have:

Well boundaried. Well focused. Well challenged. Well loved.

Peace.

Marty