I came across an interesting post written by the wonderful Ashley over at Small Strokes on the subject of overload . What she had to say was familiar, especially the bit about disappearing when overcommitment prevents the required perfection being attained (reading the last bit into it through my own messed up process). The urge to do everything and to do it perfectly is so strong, and when each project that comes along is so very exciting, or challenging, or offers such an amazing developmental opportunity, how can you say no? I have to say I admire the way that Ashley has created a strategy to filter and that that involves getting a reality check from her biggest supporter, her husband. Would that we all could have that external calm and positive reflector to helpus figure out our priorities.
But what also came to mind reading Ashley's post was about the opposite problem, the danger of underload. That vast gaping chasm that envelops when you are not being challenged, when there is no excitement, when lack of confidence has led to the incremental reduction in your projects and goals. And just as the panic of overload can lead to disappearance as a means of managing the stress, so the panic of worthlessness that comes with underload can lead to disappearance.
As I struggle to complete this wretched PhD, I find that my world has shrunk to this house, these few streets, and few, predictable outings for functional purposes. And rather than being a productive space to write in, the inertia of underload makes the whole process one of constant struggle against self-doubt and, at times, loathing.
Which is not to take anything away from Ashley and her struggles with overload. It just got me wondering if there is a sweet spot of 'load' in which heart, body and mind sings, and the possibilities soar. And if so, how do you go about finding it?
Tuesday 24 January 2012
Wednesday 14 September 2011
Finding the right prescription
I've just read this interesting post on the ever wonderful The F-Word and it chimed with me. Not because I've gone through what Jane is talking about in her post, but because I've had some experience of the impact that not getting the right treatment, or indeed not getting any treatment at all, can have on one's day to day life.
I have an underactive thyroid. No big deal; 100mcg of levothyroxine a day (for me) and the problem is fixed. The problem is that as I look back over my life I have clearly had an underactive thyroid for at least half my life, and that has affected everything. I've struggled with my weight for years, I've been sleepy when by rights I couldn't possibly be (16hrs sleep and still tired?), and I've struggled to concentrate for even half a sentence of reading let alone a whole chapter (not so good when you are a lifelong student!). But it was more than that: I also had severe anxiety to go with the apathy, which spiralled into agoraphobia when I was also depressed. If I exercised it took me days to recover and I had physical tremors at times of stress. One way or another, I went to the doctor about all of these problems over the course of at least 15 years, and it was not recognised once as a possibility. It was only when they started to investigate for another condition entirely that the thyroid problem was diagnosed.
I still remember vividly the experience of taking the thyroxine for the first time. It felt like the most amazing high, because I actually had energy. After the first few days of bouncing round the room and irritating everyone (especially my boss), I began to get used to this increase in the hormone that should be there naturally. But every day, week, month, everything just got a little easier and I began to realise that everyone didn't feel the way that I always had and that they weren't just managing it better than me. I really wasn't a lazy failure - I just hadn't stood a chance. Now it was all going to be better.
Except gradually it wasn't getting better any more and then it started to get worse. My docs were great about working with me to get my thyroxine dosage right, happy to take my lead as long as my bloods stayed somewhere in the recommended range. But something was not right. And I had to push to be taken seriously, after all my bloods looked fine. What hadn't been checked was my iron levels, and when I finally got it checked, turns out I was right off the bottom of the chart.
So now I take my iron tablets twice a day, as well as the thyroxine, and again I have that feeling of 'oh, THIS is what being a human is supposed to feel like'. When I exercise, my fitness actually increases. When I need to think, my brain actually works. And when there are chores to be done, I have the energy to tear through the list and then keep going.
Now that's quite a ramble through the saga of my health. And I guess the question is how does that relate to the post I linked to above. Well my point is this: for years I was made to feel that everything I struggled with was my fault, that I was lazy, fat and should be ashamed of myself. Every time I went into the doctor's surgery I was told that if I just lost weight it would all be fine, if I just conformed then there would be no problems. Thing is, I was biochemically incapable of conforming. I needed those tiny, almost inconsequential, tablets to function and to feel right in myself. I did not need to be shamed for the consequences of what was physically wrong for me. And I think that perhaps my experience is a very pale shadow of how it must feel for people who are intersex or trans and are looking for help and support.
So yeah, I read a post like the one above and I think about the myriad ways that prescribing is political and the way that the refusal to consider prescribing is also political. I think about the ways in which meds are pushed onto some people (those experiencing mental health problems, for example) and the way that meds are witheld for others. And I think about the ways in which the messages that surround health and the prescription process often vilify and punish the individual who is asking for help.
I don't think it's necessarily a personal message from a particular doctor; I think it's usually the result of policy, whether national or local. But those policies are often deciding who is worthy of treatment, and thus respect, and who is categorically not worthy.
And if you happen to fall outside the boundaries drawn, well it's clearly your own damn fault.
I have an underactive thyroid. No big deal; 100mcg of levothyroxine a day (for me) and the problem is fixed. The problem is that as I look back over my life I have clearly had an underactive thyroid for at least half my life, and that has affected everything. I've struggled with my weight for years, I've been sleepy when by rights I couldn't possibly be (16hrs sleep and still tired?), and I've struggled to concentrate for even half a sentence of reading let alone a whole chapter (not so good when you are a lifelong student!). But it was more than that: I also had severe anxiety to go with the apathy, which spiralled into agoraphobia when I was also depressed. If I exercised it took me days to recover and I had physical tremors at times of stress. One way or another, I went to the doctor about all of these problems over the course of at least 15 years, and it was not recognised once as a possibility. It was only when they started to investigate for another condition entirely that the thyroid problem was diagnosed.
I still remember vividly the experience of taking the thyroxine for the first time. It felt like the most amazing high, because I actually had energy. After the first few days of bouncing round the room and irritating everyone (especially my boss), I began to get used to this increase in the hormone that should be there naturally. But every day, week, month, everything just got a little easier and I began to realise that everyone didn't feel the way that I always had and that they weren't just managing it better than me. I really wasn't a lazy failure - I just hadn't stood a chance. Now it was all going to be better.
Except gradually it wasn't getting better any more and then it started to get worse. My docs were great about working with me to get my thyroxine dosage right, happy to take my lead as long as my bloods stayed somewhere in the recommended range. But something was not right. And I had to push to be taken seriously, after all my bloods looked fine. What hadn't been checked was my iron levels, and when I finally got it checked, turns out I was right off the bottom of the chart.
So now I take my iron tablets twice a day, as well as the thyroxine, and again I have that feeling of 'oh, THIS is what being a human is supposed to feel like'. When I exercise, my fitness actually increases. When I need to think, my brain actually works. And when there are chores to be done, I have the energy to tear through the list and then keep going.
Now that's quite a ramble through the saga of my health. And I guess the question is how does that relate to the post I linked to above. Well my point is this: for years I was made to feel that everything I struggled with was my fault, that I was lazy, fat and should be ashamed of myself. Every time I went into the doctor's surgery I was told that if I just lost weight it would all be fine, if I just conformed then there would be no problems. Thing is, I was biochemically incapable of conforming. I needed those tiny, almost inconsequential, tablets to function and to feel right in myself. I did not need to be shamed for the consequences of what was physically wrong for me. And I think that perhaps my experience is a very pale shadow of how it must feel for people who are intersex or trans and are looking for help and support.
So yeah, I read a post like the one above and I think about the myriad ways that prescribing is political and the way that the refusal to consider prescribing is also political. I think about the ways in which meds are pushed onto some people (those experiencing mental health problems, for example) and the way that meds are witheld for others. And I think about the ways in which the messages that surround health and the prescription process often vilify and punish the individual who is asking for help.
I don't think it's necessarily a personal message from a particular doctor; I think it's usually the result of policy, whether national or local. But those policies are often deciding who is worthy of treatment, and thus respect, and who is categorically not worthy.
And if you happen to fall outside the boundaries drawn, well it's clearly your own damn fault.
Friday 17 September 2010
Nausea Inducing News - Issue 1
Whilst today offers a wealth of possible winners for the NIN award (the cost of the Pope's visit to the UK, the appalling way that some humans treat animals, or the ongoing erasure of rights, decency and diversity in France), I'm going to start with something close to my heart: the disgusting way that people with histories of mental health problems are treated in this country.
This story about police refusing to believe that a woman had been seriously sexually assaulted in her own home twice, because of her history of mental health problems, makes me feel physically sick as well as making my blood boil. I wish I could say that I cannot believe that it took her family and GP to intervene before the investigation was carried out properly, but unfortunately I can believe it. I'm actually more surprised that the GP actually weighed in on her side; I don't think ours would do the same.
I'm also pleased that this woman has family who will go into battle for her; so many people with complex mental health histories either do not have families who would be prepared to fight for them, or their families do not have the resources or social capital to take this kind of action. And it often is a fight; if you love a person with history of mental health problems, you become discountable by association. That this woman's family has been able to get notices served to 11 officers in relation to their conduct in this case is impressive. I wish that were not something to be impressed about.
I cannot begin to imagine how it must have felt for this woman to be assaulted in such a manner and have the sense of safety in her own home destroyed. To then be told by police that you must be lying because, well, you're mad, just compounds the damage. Can you imagine being dismissed about something so serious, despite the physical evidence that you can provide? Can you imagine having something in your history or from a completely irrelevant part of your life used to prove you can never be believed? Can you imagine what that would do to your sense of your own perception of the world? Can you imagine how worthless that could make you feel? Don't you think that that might make any mental health problems so much worse?
I hope whoever she is and wherever she is, the eventual conviction of her attacker and this IPCC ruling might have gone some way to helping her heal. And I wish her peace and safety.
And, Essex Police, you are the winners of today's Nausea Inducing News Award. The word despicable does not begin to cover what you've done.
This story about police refusing to believe that a woman had been seriously sexually assaulted in her own home twice, because of her history of mental health problems, makes me feel physically sick as well as making my blood boil. I wish I could say that I cannot believe that it took her family and GP to intervene before the investigation was carried out properly, but unfortunately I can believe it. I'm actually more surprised that the GP actually weighed in on her side; I don't think ours would do the same.
I'm also pleased that this woman has family who will go into battle for her; so many people with complex mental health histories either do not have families who would be prepared to fight for them, or their families do not have the resources or social capital to take this kind of action. And it often is a fight; if you love a person with history of mental health problems, you become discountable by association. That this woman's family has been able to get notices served to 11 officers in relation to their conduct in this case is impressive. I wish that were not something to be impressed about.
I cannot begin to imagine how it must have felt for this woman to be assaulted in such a manner and have the sense of safety in her own home destroyed. To then be told by police that you must be lying because, well, you're mad, just compounds the damage. Can you imagine being dismissed about something so serious, despite the physical evidence that you can provide? Can you imagine having something in your history or from a completely irrelevant part of your life used to prove you can never be believed? Can you imagine what that would do to your sense of your own perception of the world? Can you imagine how worthless that could make you feel? Don't you think that that might make any mental health problems so much worse?
I hope whoever she is and wherever she is, the eventual conviction of her attacker and this IPCC ruling might have gone some way to helping her heal. And I wish her peace and safety.
And, Essex Police, you are the winners of today's Nausea Inducing News Award. The word despicable does not begin to cover what you've done.
Wednesday 7 July 2010
Conference week, day 3
Wow, it's been an amazing couple of days. Let me see...
The rest of the conference on Monday in Brighton was fab. There were some really interesting papers, some lovely new people met and hopefully the chance to create some interesting new opportunities. I got the chance to promote the feminist cultural activism carnival and met a few people who I've followed online. I left the university of Sussex campus feeling so energised and happy. The organisers must be commended for putting together a fantastic event. All in all a great day.
Which was good, because the next day was PAINFUL. I elected to travel to San diego the day before presenting at the current conference because of monday's event. So yesterday started at 4:20 in order to get my 8:30 flight to Toronto. Yep, that's right, I flew to San Diego via Toronto. I then should have had another connection in Chicago before finally reaching San Diego. Not what happened. The first flight was 40 mins late leaving heathrow and so despite running through Toronto airport, there was no way in hell I was ever going to make that connection, since I had to collect my bag, then go through US border preclearance then recheck my bag, and then head for the gate. And apparently I am a bit risky according to the US customs people. I have no idea why, but the pissiest guard ever seemed particularly worried about the fact that I was carrying 4 - count 'em, 4 - books. They got more scrutiny than anything else in my bag. Not my external hard-drive which could have been a fake, or my many meds, no, the books were apparently the most worrisome thing I could be carrying. By this point I was already so tired I wanted to cry. And then the bitch had the audacity to bend the cornerbof one of my books as she shoved it back into my bag. I have killed people for less.
So 25 hours after I started my journey, I got to my hotel room, which is seriously plush. Pictures will follow when I get home to a better Internet connection. The bed was bliss - until the train went past at 2am and the train driver thought it would be cute to toot his horn 10 fricking times. Seriously, W T F!!
Anyway, I need to wrap this up now, so I'll just say for now that I gave my paper this morning and it went well. To time, well received, and plenty of great questions. Met the lovely Ashley,my fellow panellist along w Ann, my academic supervisor. Had some fab conversations about subjectivity and the reality of cultural activism via blog. Think I can congratulate myself on a job well-done.
Right, got to go now to call my honey before she goes to bed. Hope you all having a good day, folks.
The rest of the conference on Monday in Brighton was fab. There were some really interesting papers, some lovely new people met and hopefully the chance to create some interesting new opportunities. I got the chance to promote the feminist cultural activism carnival and met a few people who I've followed online. I left the university of Sussex campus feeling so energised and happy. The organisers must be commended for putting together a fantastic event. All in all a great day.
Which was good, because the next day was PAINFUL. I elected to travel to San diego the day before presenting at the current conference because of monday's event. So yesterday started at 4:20 in order to get my 8:30 flight to Toronto. Yep, that's right, I flew to San Diego via Toronto. I then should have had another connection in Chicago before finally reaching San Diego. Not what happened. The first flight was 40 mins late leaving heathrow and so despite running through Toronto airport, there was no way in hell I was ever going to make that connection, since I had to collect my bag, then go through US border preclearance then recheck my bag, and then head for the gate. And apparently I am a bit risky according to the US customs people. I have no idea why, but the pissiest guard ever seemed particularly worried about the fact that I was carrying 4 - count 'em, 4 - books. They got more scrutiny than anything else in my bag. Not my external hard-drive which could have been a fake, or my many meds, no, the books were apparently the most worrisome thing I could be carrying. By this point I was already so tired I wanted to cry. And then the bitch had the audacity to bend the cornerbof one of my books as she shoved it back into my bag. I have killed people for less.
So 25 hours after I started my journey, I got to my hotel room, which is seriously plush. Pictures will follow when I get home to a better Internet connection. The bed was bliss - until the train went past at 2am and the train driver thought it would be cute to toot his horn 10 fricking times. Seriously, W T F!!
Anyway, I need to wrap this up now, so I'll just say for now that I gave my paper this morning and it went well. To time, well received, and plenty of great questions. Met the lovely Ashley,my fellow panellist along w Ann, my academic supervisor. Had some fab conversations about subjectivity and the reality of cultural activism via blog. Think I can congratulate myself on a job well-done.
Right, got to go now to call my honey before she goes to bed. Hope you all having a good day, folks.
Monday 5 July 2010
Conference week - day 1, post 1
This week is the week of conferences. Today, it's Brighton for the Digital Methods, Cultural Politics and Feminist Approaches conference. Then tomorrow I fly out to San Diego to present on Wednesday morning at the contemporary women's writing network annual conference. In the process I will be travelling internationally on my own for the first time, which as a nervous flyer is more than a bit daunting. On the other hand, I will be presenting my first conference paper & hopefully expanding my network of academic contacts for my nascent career. Not too much pressure for the week then!
So one hour in to the first day of the week of conferences and I already have so many new things to think about. Adi Kuntsman just gave the first keynote of the day on 'Politics of/in digital cultures: lessons from feminist and queer theory'. It was a really rich, interesting, complex talk, which I am going to get so much out of reflecting on.
Thus far, it's a really good start to the week.
So one hour in to the first day of the week of conferences and I already have so many new things to think about. Adi Kuntsman just gave the first keynote of the day on 'Politics of/in digital cultures: lessons from feminist and queer theory'. It was a really rich, interesting, complex talk, which I am going to get so much out of reflecting on.
Thus far, it's a really good start to the week.
Thursday 20 May 2010
My Research
This is a post I have been putting off writing for far too long. But here goes....
I am currently just over 18 months in to my PhD research, for which I am considering feminist and womanist blogging, specifically what kind of feminist and womanist theory is being written about and developed in these blogs. I use the word theory, but I don't necessarily mean it in a purely academic sense; rather I mean theory at all levels, from the theories that we use to make sense of our every day lives to the grand theories of the academy. Georgia Gaden has suggested that the feminist blogosphere is the first place to direct people wanting to find out more about feminism, so I want to know what kinds of feminism and womanism are there out there? What is sayable and what absolutely not? And how does the presence of readers and commenters with unprecedented access to the blogger affect the way in which she chooses to write or what she chooses to write about? And, thus, how does the presence of the immediately interactive audience impact on the expressions of feminism and womanism that are available to an interested party?
That, in a rather long paragraph is my research. Needless to say it feels more complex and wooly at the moment than those few sentences would seem to betray, but I can see how my thinking is moving forward in this area. So why the anxiety about posting this? Well partly, it's protectiveness and insecurity about my academic work. If I blog about my ideas, maybe someone else will pick them up and publish before I am ready to (because obviously they are that good!). On the other hand, perhaps someone will leave a comment that trashes my work completely, and I am not sure if I could deal with that. And then I find the work of people like Ashley at Small Strokes and see both how great it is and how closely related it is to my work, and my anxiety does not get any smaller.
However, I have had enough of being that fearful, so here it is world: My Research.
I am currently just over 18 months in to my PhD research, for which I am considering feminist and womanist blogging, specifically what kind of feminist and womanist theory is being written about and developed in these blogs. I use the word theory, but I don't necessarily mean it in a purely academic sense; rather I mean theory at all levels, from the theories that we use to make sense of our every day lives to the grand theories of the academy. Georgia Gaden has suggested that the feminist blogosphere is the first place to direct people wanting to find out more about feminism, so I want to know what kinds of feminism and womanism are there out there? What is sayable and what absolutely not? And how does the presence of readers and commenters with unprecedented access to the blogger affect the way in which she chooses to write or what she chooses to write about? And, thus, how does the presence of the immediately interactive audience impact on the expressions of feminism and womanism that are available to an interested party?
That, in a rather long paragraph is my research. Needless to say it feels more complex and wooly at the moment than those few sentences would seem to betray, but I can see how my thinking is moving forward in this area. So why the anxiety about posting this? Well partly, it's protectiveness and insecurity about my academic work. If I blog about my ideas, maybe someone else will pick them up and publish before I am ready to (because obviously they are that good!). On the other hand, perhaps someone will leave a comment that trashes my work completely, and I am not sure if I could deal with that. And then I find the work of people like Ashley at Small Strokes and see both how great it is and how closely related it is to my work, and my anxiety does not get any smaller.
However, I have had enough of being that fearful, so here it is world: My Research.
Monday 10 May 2010
Sometimes other people say it better
I think this warrants a 'Hell yeah!'
I will always expect more. It's the only way I know how to be.
H/T to the wonderful Shakesville
I will always expect more. It's the only way I know how to be.
H/T to the wonderful Shakesville
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
