Up-Blips of Emotion: Exploring the Strange Things That Make My Weird Little Heart Happy

There’s a joke in my family when talking about treating oneself to something: “You’ve got to have some pleasure in life!” The required response, of course, is “You don’t have enough pleasure already?!” I was thinking about this the other day after posting my piece on loneliness for Mental Health Awareness Week. In the article I explored Mark Rowland’s notion that we feel lonely when there’s a mismatch between the connections we have and our social needs and wants. If that’s true, I wondered, what about our other needs? What do we feel when those go unmet? Sad? Angry? Frustrated? Empty? Unhappy?

More generally, why do we find some activities and experiences pleasurable and not others? Why do we yearn for happiness and pleasure? What does it mean to be happy, anyway? What about all the times we’re not happy? Do they have value too, or are they merely to be lived though until our next fix of happiness? What’s the point of being happy if you’re only going to be not-happy again afterwards? I was tangled up in these thoughts when I came across a quotation by American journalist and author Elizabeth Gilbert.

Don’t ever be ashamed of loving the strange things that make your weird little heart happy.

It brought a smile to my face, not least because I’m almost certainly overthinking things! I’m not sure pleasure and happiness are meant to be rationalised to this extent. Analysing — over-analysing — is something I do, and on the whole I’m okay with that. But it can be good to just let things happen without trying to figure them out logically. I shared the Elizabeth Gilbert quotation with my friend Brynn. We agreed there’s a lot of social pressure to be happy, or at least to present as being happy, despite the fact it’s not possible to be happy all the time. She observed that connecting with people seems to make me happy. I didn’t disagree, although I wasn't sure it was quite the right word for how good connections make me feel.

What else makes you happy, Marty?

I thought a moment before answering.

Hmmm. I’m not sure. I don’t know that I’m “happy” very often. I don’t mean I’m flat or low all the time, although I do get that way sometimes. I’d mostly describe my good times as feeling positive or engaged, rather than “happy.”

So you don’t consider yourself a happy person?

No.

I know how you feel. I have moments of happiness but in general I’m not a happy person either.

I don’t see it as a negative thing or an issue.

Me neither. It is what it is.

Happiness is just a word and different people will use it in different ways. What I call being positive or engaged, someone else might call happiness. Semantics aside, I’ve always been suspicious of the need to be happy because to me it’s a fleeting, or at least a temporary, state. I’ve enjoyed many moments of happiness, but the longer term has always seemed more important to me. For much of my life that long-term state has been wholesome and positive. Maybe that’s why I’ve not felt the need to pursue those up-blips of emotion called happiness: if and when they came along, it was a bonus. The icing on the cake. That all changed last year, when I became aware of a significant downward shift in my baseline mood.

I’ve always believed my emotional and mental health baseline to be essentially positive and healthy. Things might happen at times to upset my equilibrium, but after a shorter or longer period I return to my place of stability and wholeness. Lately, though, this model has been turned on its head. Instead of events and situations disturbing me from an essentially healthy baseline, it feels as though my baseline itself has shifted downwards. Positive events and situations such as meeting up with a friend, or feedback on one of my blog posts [...] can lift me up, lighten my mood, or provide an alternative focus for a while. But, once the distraction has passed, I’m pulled back to this low mood baseline.

Things that used to bring me pleasure seem less worth pursuing now. What’s the point, I find myself asking, when I’ll return to that lower mood afterwards? I used to take myself into Newcastle City centre almost every Saturday. I’d visit my then favourite coffee shop for an hour or so, then wander round the shops, calling in at the art gallery or museum, or perhaps venture down to the quayside. I stopped doing all that due to covid, but even though restrictions have lifted, I’ve felt little urge to return. I’ve been into Newcastle twice this year to meet up with friends, but have had no interest in exploring on my own as I used to.

Instead, I spend Saturday mornings in my local Costa coffee shop, writing, then head home for the rest of the day. There’s nothing wrong with changing my habits and patterns, and I look forward to “coffee and scribbles” at Costa. It’s become the highlight of my week. My “happy place.” What’s arguably unhealthy is that I have little to no desire to explore or plan other things. That “what’s the point?” is not a good sign.

What is the point, though? It sometimes feels as though “doing happy things” is little more than a distraction from however else I’m feeling or whatever else is going on for me. This is something I’ve discussed many times in conversations with Fran and other friends. If we’re feeling low, sad, or depresed; if we’re going through hard times of any description, why wouldn’t we want to distract ourselves or escape into moments of happiness — whatever happy might mean to us. I’m reminded of the words of author J. R. R. Tolkien, in response to the accusation that literary fantasy (which he refers to as fairy-stories) is an escape from reality.

I have claimed that Escape is one of the main functions of fairy-stories, and since I do not disapprove of them, it is plain that I do not accept the tone of scorn or pity with which “Escape” is now so often used [...] Why should a man be scorned if, finding himself in prison, he tries to get out and go home? Or if, when he cannot do so, he thinks and talks about other topics than jailers and prison-walls? The world outside has not become less real because the prisoner cannot see it. In using escape in this way the critics have chosen the wrong word, and, what is more, they are confusing, not always by sincere error, the Escape of the Prisoner with the Flight of the Deserter. (J. R. R. Tolkien, On Fairy Stories)

Thinking about it in this way, maybe the point of happiness is precisely to provide temporary relief or escape from whatever else is going on for us. Both Tolkien and Gilbert suggest there’s nothing weak or shameful in this. I needn’t worry, then, that doing things that bring me pleasure provides only temporary distraction.

That word temporary is important. Happiness can take us out of our present situation for a while and allow us to recharge our physical, mental, and emotional batteries. I’ve shared some of my distraction techniques previously, in posts such as Ten Ways to Turn a Bad Day Around, Nine Ways I Distract Myself When I'm Feeling Down, and Notes for a Happy Life. However, it’s not — and must not become — an excuse or strategy to ignore or avoid our problems.

Gilbert’s choice of words — her strange things and weird little heart — reminds us that happiness is intensely individual. The things that lift my heart may be very different to the things that lift yours. And that’s okay. So, what strange things make my weird little heart happy? Let’s start with some things I enjoy doing.

• Writing on good quality paper with a fountain pen with an extra fine nib.
• Sending my friends a good morning message.
• Setting out my writing station — phone and tablet on their little stands, keyboard, notebooks and pens — in my local coffee shop as I settle in for some quality me time.
• Working creatively in my Traveler’s Notebook.
• Completing the draft version of whatever blog post I’m working on.

Those all bring me pleasure, but I wouldn’t say they make me happy. They’re things I can consciously choose or decide to do. My happy moments are far fewer in number and much less frequent. They are also unplanned. Unpredictability is an important aspect of true happiness for me. To misappropriate the words of Tolkien’s Oxford contemporary C. S. Lewis, happiness for me means being surprised by joy. Unexpected feedback on my blog posts or books, especially where it’s clear they’ve had a significant impact on the reader; news of a friend’s achievements or success; unanticipated hugs; crowd karaoke — these are a few of my favourite happy things. (That last one is a few year’s old now, but it’s still the first thing I think of when I think of happy!)

Where does all this this bring me? If true happiness isn’t something I can plan for or anticipate, maybe the best I can do is hold myself open to its appearance and appreciate it when it occurs. More practically, I can build more opportunities for pleasure and meaning in my life, and embrace “distractions” without feeling as though they’re a waste of time, focus, and energy. What’s the point? may be the ultimate unanswerable question, but maybe asking it is answer enough.

After all, you’ve got to have some pleasure in life, right?

Over to You

I’ve shared a few thoughts and ideas about happiness, but what does it mean to you? What makes you happy? Would you call yourself a happy person? If not, do you wish you were? When was the last time you were truly happy? We’d love to hear from you, either in the comments below or via our contact page.

If you’re interested in further musings on the Elizabeth Gilbert quotation, check out this post by Ella at LaWhimsy.

 

Photo by Stan B at Unsplash.

 

Helping People Helps You Too (But Don't Lose Sight of Your Needs)

“We rise by lifting others” — Robert Ingersoll

I’ve written quite a bit over the past year or so about how low I get at times, including how my baseline mood has dropped significantly from where it used to be. There are periods when I doubt the value of what I do, both in the workplace and in other aspects of my life. That includes my connections, friendships, and relationships; my writing; and other work in the mental health arena.

When I’m in this kind of “what’s the point?” slump, as I have been recently, nothing seems worth the effort because it feels like nothing is going to make a difference. It’s tempting to just give up on things, or at least contemplate doing so. The scary thing is how easily slumps like this can creep up on you, and how tough it can be to shake those self-defeating thoughts and feelings. The good news is, they can and do shift, and sometimes it’s the little things that make a difference.

I was reminded of this last week. I’d like to share a few of the details because it helps to remember how much difference a word or two of thanks, an offer of help, or indeed a request for help can make.

Checking my social media one morning last week, I saw I’d been tagged in a Facebook group run by bp Magazine which focuses on support for the loved ones of people living with bipolar disorder. In response to a request for advice on how to help a friend, a member I’ve spoken to before suggested the Gum on My Shoe Facebook page that Fran and I maintain, our blog, and our book High Tide, Low Tide: The Caring Friend’s Guide to Bipolar Disorder. They went on to say our work was the first they’d encountered that wasn’t from the perspective of a spouse or parent, that they’d learned a lot from it, and that their relationship with their loved one would not be what it is today without my help. Needless to say, this meant a huge amount, and was (and is) profoundly validating. I hope our book and other resources might help the person who asked for guidance, and others who are in need.

Something similar occurred the next day. I’d posted a link to an article of mine titled Supportive Disengagement: How to Be There for Your Friend When They Need Space. The same person who’d recommended our book replied to thank me. “I needed to read this today,” she said. “Thank you.”

Two opportunities to be of help and support arose later that day. One was from a friend who was in need of practical assistance. I was more than happy to say yes to her request, especially as I was the only person available to do so. The second involved keeping a friend company on chat and encouraging them as they moved into their day and began working through the things they needed to accomplish. I was proud of my friend’s achievements but didn’t realise just how valuable my presence had been until she thanked me later.

The mutuality of support came up in a conversation with Fran in which she shared how much she’d valued the chance to spend a couple of days with a close friend. I suggested that the time she’d spent with her friend had been a gift to them both, and would be something they’d remember for a long time.

As valuable as it can be to help others, it’s important to pay attention to your own needs, and I was reminded of this too last week. One specific thing that’s been on my mind recently is whether I need to step back from my workplace role as a Mental Health First Aider. It’s not something I want to do and I’ve felt I’d be letting myself and others down if I were to step down for even a short while. On the other hand, I’ve felt very drained of late — physically, mentally, and emotionally.

I mentioned this to one of my fellow MHFAs. She replied with such empathy and compassion that I was moved deeply. She understood. Two things she said resonated with me in particular. The first recognised how valuable and validating it can be to offer support to others: “Helping people is a satisfaction which is sometimes unmeasurable, it is also a blessing to be able to offer that support.” She’s wise enough and experienced enough to realise how much supporting others can take out of us at times, and how important it is to pay attention to our needs. As she pointed out, “[k]nowing the difference between loving ourselves and validating ourselves is sometimes a very hard thin line.” I’ve yet to decide about my MHFA role, but her words reminded me it’s ok if I need to take a break, whether for a short time or more permanently.

My mood hasn’t lifted dramatically as a result of these exchanges, and I still have my doubts and uncertainties about what I ought to be focusing on. The comments and conversations I’ve described, though, did help me move through what I was feeling, and gave me some degree of reassurance that I’m not totally on the wrong path. As I said to Fran when I told her about the Facebook group comments, “Little things like this are good to see. They help me feel I’m doing something useful.”

 

Photo by Nick Fewings on Unsplash.

 

Return to Down: How My Baseline Mood Has Slipped from Positive to Low

I’ve felt below par mentally for a while now. It’s possible I’ve been depressed, although I’m wary of self-diagnosis and haven’t sought a clinical opinion. I can trace some of it back several years but I’ve only lately felt up to talking about it publically. It’s not that I’ve ignored my mental health altogether. I’m aware of many of my triggers; the situations and events that tend to pull the rug out from under me. I captured the main ones in my Wellness Recovery Action Plan (WRAP) back in 2019, and review it periodically. My triggers include:

• Changes in relationships (which I tend to perceive as lessening, loss, or abandonment)
• Uncertainty or lack of clarity in communications
• Getting overwhelmed by competing demands for my time and attention

My triggered responses include feeling anxious and panicky, a strong sense of loss or abandonment, and becoming either pushy or clingy. My WRAP includes recovery strategies which help me return to my baseline, such as talking things over with Fran and other trusted friends, pulling back to assess what’s happening, and focusing on my writing. These strategies have served me well, until now.

In last week’s blog post, I mentioned feeling flat, low, and empty, but being unable to identify any of my usual triggers. My key friendships and relationships have been solid for a while now, communications are clear and unambiguous, and although there’s been a lot going on, I’ve not felt consciously overstretched. Nevertheless, my mood has often dropped suddenly — at times precipitously — with little or no warning. Something is different but it’s taken me a while to figure out what it might be.

I’ve always believed my emotional and mental health baseline to be essentially positive and healthy. Things might happen at times to upset my equilibrium, but after a shorter or longer period I return to my place of stability and wholeness. Lately, though, this model has been turned on its head. Instead of events and situations disturbing me from an essentially healthy baseline, it feels as though my baseline itself has shifted downwards. Positive events and situations such as meeting up with a friend, or feedback on one of my blog posts — essentially any of the things I was grateful for last week — can lift me up, lighten my mood, or provide an alternative focus for a while. But, once the distraction has passed, I’m pulled back to this low mood baseline. I’m reminded of the rubber band effect Fran uses to describe the “rebound crash of pain and fatigue” she gets with her fibromyalgia if she exercises or exerts herself too much.

No model can be completely accurate, but the best can help us — and others — appreciate what’s happening in our lives. Fran and I have used a variety of models to explore how illness plays out in her life. We describe several in our book, including this layers model:

In terms of responsibility, Fran finds it helpful to acknowledge there is an underlying layer of biological illness. It may respond to clinical intervention, including medication, but she is unable to influence it directly. Above this, there is another layer which Fran can affect, through meditation and mindfulness, exercise, and making healthy choices about her food, drink, and sleeping regimes. Thinking about illness in this way eases the burden of guilt, and allows her to focus her energy where it can be most effective.

I only began explicitly tracking my mood in February 2020, but three times a day for six months I rated my mood on a six-point scale that ran from zero (“struggling”) through “low,” “flat,” “OK,” “baseline/positive,” up to a maximum value of five (“really good”). My healthy-baseline-with-occasional-low-periods model remained valid throughout. Outside events and changes (either real or imagined) in my relationships evoked sudden and occasionally dramatic drops in mood, but I returned to my positive baseline without much trouble or delay. As I noted at the time, “My mood is closely tied in with what’s happening in my life, especially in my key relationships. This isn’t news to me (or my close friends) but the tracker has brought it into clearer focus.”

I haven’t tracked my mood since last August but on that same scale I’d say my baseline has dropped from “positive” to somewhere between “flat” and “low.” That’s a significant shift but how and when did it occur? I found it hard adjusting to working from home and not meeting up with friends during the first covid lockdown, but my baseline held up, as my mood tracker attests. I can think of events towards the end of 2020 that upset my equilibrium and might be significant, but the first clear sign of change is an article I wrote in March this year. In What If I Never Do All the Things I Used to Do? it’s clear I was struggling to remain positive.

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?

Contrast that with the robust optimism of “Remember When?” — Building Shared Experience in Unprecedented Times, written one year earlier, a month or so into the pandemic.

It occurred to me that we’re doing more than checking to see people are okay. We’re supporting each other, yes. But even more than that, we’re sharing our experiences in what truly are unprecedented times. [...] There will be tears and pain when we look back on the pandemic of 2020. But there will also be joy and laughter, and the comfort that comes from surviving dark times in good company.

I may revisit these blog posts now things have largely opened up again. I’ve been able to meet up with local friends. I’ve reclaimed a couple of things I feared lost forever and found some new ones. Nevertheless, this lower baseline appears here for good — or bad. However I got here, I need to figure out what that means. In another recent post I shared a little of the changes I’ve noticed in my daily diary:

Looking through my journal, there are things I’m used to hearing from others but have rarely felt — and even more rarely expressed. Have I just been feeling low or is it something more serious? I tend to assume my experiences, dark moods included, scarcely register compared with what others go through. But what if I’ve reached somewhere they would recognise. How would I know?

Feeling low is scarcely unique or unexpected given all we’ve lived through these past eighteen months. It’s unusual and unexpected for me, though. I’ve become much less positive, optimistic, and hopeful than I can remember being in a very long time. In unguarded moments, I’m overwhelmed by a deep, aching emptiness. I can shift my mood, but sooner or later the rubber band takes hold and I find myself back on my new baseline. Is this (to use a term I’ve come to loathe) my “new normal”?

I’m unsure what to do about it. Maybe there’s nothing to be done about it, other than to keep moving and see it through to the other side. Being open about how I’m feeling is part of that. I was chatting with my friend and fellow mental health blogger Aimee Wilson last week:

Hi Marty. What are you up to?

Doing a bit of blogging. The one about my mood shifts.

Are you finding it OK to write about that kind of thing?

It’s not flowing all that well at the moment, but yeah. It feels kinda important and real, yunno?

That’s so good!

Thanks. I’ve learned from the best!

A few days later, we had the opportunity to talk face-to-face. I shared my insight about my baseline shifting downwards, and how I was tryng to figure out what it means. We discussed how people often set their needs aside — sometimes for years — in order to support others who may be in more immediate need. Eventually, though, things may catch up with them to the extent they can no longer be ignored. That was very much the case with my mother. She supported my father for decades as he became increasingly disabled with arthritis. After he died and I left home for university, she devoted herself to supporting other people. Her mental health deteriorated to the point where she was barely able to cope. She spent her final years depressed, anxious, and wracked with guilt for not having done more. At her funeral, the minister praised her as a living saint, but to me, that degree of self-neglect is far from laudable.

Something that feels very relevant is the convenient but problematic labelling of people as either “ill ones” or “well ones” (as Fran and I express it in our book). The distinction has value but it can lead people like me who are relatively well and stable to ignore or downplay signs we’re not doing so well. Aimee and I agreed that health, especially mental health, is not a competition. No one should be shamed or ignored because they imagine they’re struggling less — or more — than someone else.

Things change. Situations and relationships change. Our health changes, sometimes for the better, sometimes not. We all need to pay attention, me included.

This is me paying attention.

 

Photo by Adrian Dascal on Unsplash

 

How to Use a Spreadsheet for Wellness and Self-Care

I rarely feel the need to record my self-care habits, but from time to time I find it helpful to monitor things a little more closely.

For the past ten days Fran has been staying with a friend in Arizona, after which she will visit another friend in Florida. Apart from a few days in between, she will be away from home for almost six weeks.

Although we stay in touch, vacations inevitably mean we are less in contact than usual, which can be hard on us both. I’ve also had a few things going on in my personal life that have affected me deeply. At such times it’s is all too easy to slip into feeling low, so based on my Wellness Recovery Action Plan (WRAP) I decided to use a wellness tracker to keep me in touch with healthy practices and activities.

My Wellness Tracker Spreadsheet

I first tried this back in 2013 when Fran took an extended trip around Europe. On that occasion I used a Google Docs spreadsheet and recorded brief notes about what was happening each day, how much exercise (walking) I did, any creative work such as working on our book, any reading I did (what book and for how long), and whether or not I meditated. This time I’m using an Excel spreadsheet to capture the following information on a daily basis: notes, mood, weight, eating, reading, exercise, creativity, water, and vitamins. Let’s look at these in more detail.

Notes

I use the notes column to record key events or feelings from the day.

Mood

I decided to record how I am feeling three times each day: first thing (plotted in blue), midday (orange), and evening (grey) using a six-point scale:

[5] Really good
[4] Baseline / positive
[3] OK
[2] Flat
[1] Low
[0] Struggling

I have written previously about what I mean by feeling flat.

Weight

I weigh at home each evening and track my weight in a separate spreadsheet (Fran and I have tracked our respective weights now for more than seven years) but I decided to include it in my wellness tracker to see how it relates (or doesn’t) to how I’m doing generally.

Eating

I have included two checks to help keep me on track and avoid any tendency to emotional eating (I am aware I tend to eat less if I’m feeling anxious). I record whether I ate healthily during the day; during the week this means yoghurt or porridge for breakfast and soup or a wrap for lunch. (Evening meals at home are generally healthy.) I mostly want to reinforce positive behaviours and activities, but I have a strong tendency to eat supper late at night. This is unhealthy for me and almost guarantees a gain in weight the following day. Including this in my spreadsheet holds me accountable and means I get to “fess up” to myself if I choose to indulge.

Water

This serves as a useful reminder to drink at least one large mug of water (approx 500 ml) each day in addition to my coffee, rooibos tea — and beer!

Vitamins

I take multivitamins plus minerals, vitamin B complex, vitamin C, and vitamin D tablets — when I remember to! Adding them to my tracker spreadsheet encourages me to take them first thing in the morning.

Reading

I enjoy reading but find it hard to settle into it at home. My best time for reading is on my lunch break at work, so this tracker serves as a reminder to do so. I have been reading an excellent book recommended by a friend: I Hate You – Don’t Leave Me: Understanding the Borderline Personality, by Jerold J. Kreisman and Hal Straus.

Exercise

As I have written elsewhere, walking has played an important role in my life for as long as I can remember, so much so that it was one of the first things I included in the wellness tools section of my Wellness Recovery Action Plan (WRAP). I take a walk after dinner most evenings, either to the local store for groceries or a leisurely wander around the neighbourhood.

Creativity

This tracker reminds me to consider some creative pursuit in my day, which usually involves writing or editing posts for our blog. This is in addition to keeping up to date in my personal journal, which I have kept for over four decades.

Observations and Conclusions

I’ve only used the checklist for a few weeks but it’s proving useful in a number of ways. I’m used to exploring my thoughts and feelings in my journal but this is the first time I’ve explicitly tracked my mood over time. I hadn’t realised how variable it can be throughout the day, how rarely it holds steady for more than a couple of days, and how quickly it bounces back after a setback if I don’t get in its way. It’s also interesting to note that my midday mood is much more stable than either morning or evening.

There’s something of a correlation between my mood and my weight, in that my weight came down during the first week when I was struggling a good deal emotionally. I think that’s largely because I’d started the tracker and was paying attention to what I ate, although as I mentioned earlier I tend to eat less when I’m anxious or stressed. As my mood stabilised my weight increased again. I think I allowed myself to overindulge in response to feeling better, especially with my late-night snacks. Not a healthy response!

My mood is closely tied in with what’s happening in my life, especially in my key relationships. This isn’t news to me (or my close friends) but the tracker has brought it into clearer focus. There’s nothing wrong with “feeling what I feel” of course, as long as I don’t take it out on those around me.

All in all, using my wellness tracker spreadsheet has helped keep me on track with healthy behaviours and highlighted areas to focus on in the future.

As I finish this article, Fran is on her way back from Arizona. It will be great to see her for a few days before her next trip, but I find I’m curious to see how things will go — for her and for me — over the next couple of weeks when she is away again. Whatever happens, I will be tracking things closely and paying attention to my self-care.

Do you track your mood and self-care in any way? If you’d like to write about your experiences with wellness tools, check our guest blogger guidelines and get in touch. We’d love to hear from you!