Le lapin au clair de la lune. Watercolours on paper.

An experiment, following on from reading this:

The world looks different if you're depressed.

DEPRESSION really does change the way you see the world. People with the condition find it easy to interpret large images or scenes, but struggle to "spot the difference" in fine detail. The finding hints at visual training as a possible treatment.

Depressed people have a shortage of a neurotransmitter called GABA; this has also been linked to a visual skill called spatial suppression, which helps us suppress details surrounding the object our eyes are focused on - enabling us to pick out a snake in fallen leaves, for instance.

That reminds me of coming out of depression years ago. The world started to look more colourful (literally.) I've been painting because I'm depressed. Painting helps. But also, if I'm right in it, sometimes I'm less inclined to paint clear, detailed figures. That doesn't fit how I'm feeling, because the focus is too clear, or sharp. The feeling is more messy and all over the place, and formless. So I end up with proportionally more paintings with broad strokes, or something tonal, with less of a defined figure.

I wondered what would happen if I started trying to paint something particularly detailed. Like colouring in a mandala. There was only one way to find out.

I can't say it's made everything better. But the process has been quite meditative. And at least now I have a painting of a bunny rabbit under the moonlight!

(The Chinese characters are my name in Chinese. Not a reference to rabbits by night.)

Got up at 6 am to make it into Leeds for 2 lots of psychodynamic supervision from 9 am. Trains were late or cancelled because the heavy rain caused flooding and points failures on the line. So I was about 3 or 4 mins late, despite leaving lots of time in case of delays. This was my first supervision with my 2 new, temporary psychodynamic supervisors at my Leeds placement. I feel like both sessions went well.

( Read more... )

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After that I took the train back to York. Paid some bills. Then dropped by Borders, which is closing down in the UK. Alas! My spiritual home! *sigh* There's 20% off almost everything, so of course I hit the psychology section in search of textbooks. I was really hoping that I'd get van der Kolk on PTSD at 20% off (it's a good, if not cheap reference book!) But the psychology section was looking even thinner than usual, and all the books on PTSD were gone. I guess other (traumatised?!) people have been and looted made off with the goods already. I still got a couple of other books, but I'm a bit disappointed there wasn't more there.

I shall miss Borders. It came into York and my life at a time when I really needed to have somewhere nice with books to hang around in. At one time in my life, Borders was one of those places - the Museum Gardens was another - where I could go if I was distressed. I could walk through the shelves, and browse the books. That would calm me down. (Being around books is almost always calmative for me.) There'd be other people around, looking at books. Fellow book lovers! Even if I didn't know them or speak to them, I wasn't cut off from humanity. And in fact, I did meet more people there. For a while I attended a book club there. And I was on a public judging panel at the York branch of Borders, for an early round of the Guardian's First Book Award. Borders was part of the process by which I recovered from PTSD, and started to get back out into the world.

Woodroffe Bear came from Borders! There are comfy chairs in Borders. There is piped in music. There was (eventually) Starbucks upstairs, so I could have a hot drink if I wanted. I didn't have to do anything in particular. I could just go there, hang out, browse books, and settle down. It's been a good place to be. It's after Borders moved into York that the local Waterstones started putting out comfy chairs too! I'll still have Waterstones, but I'll miss Borders with its lighter interior decor (Waterstones is heavier feeling, with the red carpets and the black shelving.)

I shall miss Borders. I venture out far more widely now, but it's still been a good place to hang out - especially on a cold, grey, rainy Winter day, like today. And even when there isn't van der Kolk on PTSD at 20% off.

Going under. Acrylics on paper.

Grief. Acrylics on paper.




Down, down, down. Acrylics on paper. Photographed when slightly wet.

I get some symptoms of Seasonal Affective Disorder every year. This year it's pretty intense. I'm tired all the time. I must have had around 10 hours sleep last night. I woke up, and wanted to go back to sleep again. I have panda eyes in the mirror (dark circles under my eyes.) I feel energetically depleted. It took me ages to sit up, and then ages to get up. I just want to sleep all the time, or eat carbohydrates. All I want to do is eat, sleep, and sink into oblivion.

I was thinking some of this is SAD. Some of it is the impact of a protracted series of endings - the messy ending in supervision with Christine in particular. I'm still realizing how sad and angry I feel over losing the group with my peer; I spent 4 months negotiating with other people to try and set that group up. I was happy to be with my peer. And then it all went in an instant. In some ways, that's one of things I've been most shocked and upset about. Grief is hard - sudden, shocking grief is even harder. I've also been dealing with major changes for months (including ending my day job.) I'm feeling uncertain about training, about how many more years I need to put into it, the financial cost of it, uncertain about what state regulation might mean in terms of the qualification I've been aiming at, my employability in this field. (I'm not worried about actually doing the work, which I love. I have a sense now that I can keep on learning to do that. But the practical supports to keep doing it, the cost of training and supervision, how much more of my life I have to give up to that - that I'm not clear about.) I have a sense of dis-satisfaction over 4th year. I'm worried about family-related stuff. I'm stressed over the prospect of the usual Dec family visit. (I just want time and space to myself, not least to try and find a slower, more spacious rhythm to my day-night, sleep-wake cycle. Ring-fencing time off over Xmas has usually helped me with SAD in the past. I usually end up nocturnal for a while, and then sync back into being diurnal just in time for work in the new year.)

While I was trying to find the energy to get up this morning, I was thinking between SAD and all of that, in a way I'm surprised I haven't been more depressed before this. I've mostly managed to stay alive, even in my sadness, even to my sadness. Months and months of sadness.

Well, I'm depressed now. I know some things help me in depression. I know my friends are there - I think that's a big reason why I haven't gone under before now. In a way, this year has ended up feeling a lot like the horrible year that my ex comprehensively destroyed our friendship, and Christine cancelled the York training. Only now I'm letting my friends support me more. Thanks, folks.

I also have good therapy (as I did back then.)

Being kind with myself helps. Cooking good meals helps. Painting helps. Listening to music helps. This afternoon my mp3 player played me U2, Bach, Miles Davis, random, cheesy 80s songs, and Damien Rice's "Eskimo", which I always find ravishingly beautiful. This is not the album version of the song, but it's also deeply lovely.

Tiredness fuels empty thoughts
I find myself disposed
Brightness fills empty space
In search of inspiration
Harder now with higher speed
Washing in on top of me
So I look to my eskimo friend
I look to my eskimo friend
I look to my eskimo friend
When I'm down, down, down.

Rain it wets muddy roads
I find myself exposed
Tapping doors, but irritate
In search of destination
Harder now with higher speed
Washing in on top of me
So I look to my eskimo friend
I look to my eskimo friend
I look to my eskimo friend
When I'm down, down, down.

Kosketa minua - Touch me
Älä käsilläsi - Not with your hands
Vaan niin että tunnen sinut - But so that I feel you

Halaa minua - Hug me
Älä käsilläsi - Not with your hands
Mutta sielussasi - But within your soul

Minä kaipaan eskimo-ystävääni - I miss my eskimo friend

When I'm down, down, down.
When I'm down, down, down.
When I'm down, down, down.

Dancing to that helps.

Gone. Acrylics on paper.




Lost. Acrylics on paper. Photographed when slightly wet.




Oblivion. Pencil and eraser on paper.

DO NOT WANT

DO NOT WANT

DO NOT WANT

That is all.

And now I'm off to work.

Feel tired and dispirited. It's turning out to be difficult to find another available gestalt supervisor within a manageable travelling distance. Having asked around and gotten some "no"s, I have one other person to try; I have to wait and see what she says.

Meanwhile, at my Leeds placement, I'm still taking in that my other colleague has left. She used to work Wednesdays as well. So both the other volunteers who were working at the same time as me have gone. The other remaining volunteer works Tuesdays; we see each other in line management and supervision on Mondays. I'm glad she's still around. I miss Helen too, who used to be around today as well. There's still admin and finance staff around, and my line manager, but it's a much smaller number of people. Feels quieter there now. I'm staying focused on my work, AND I feel sad about the diminshed number of people. I feel the absences.

I've just watched this film on BBC iPlayer.



The Horse Boy was showing as part of BBC 4's Storyville documentary series. It's about a family with an autistic son, who travel to Mongolia to try horse healing and Shamanic healing for him. It's a moving story, with a happy ending. You can read more about it here, and also check out the links near the bottom of that page. Some of what Temple Grandin says in the New York Times blog about healing autism with horses is interesting.

The other thing is horseback riding seems to be really good for these kids. I have had a number of parents tell me that when their child was in a therapeutic riding program, their child spoke their first words. It’s rhythm and balance. These activities are really good for the autistic brain.

That makes me think of this entry from the Neurolearning blog, about "Sensory Processing, Postural Sway, Anxiety - Better with Occupational Therapy".

Kids with autism have sensory processing difficulties.

As many parents of a child with significant sensory processing difficulties will tell you, anxiety and emotional dysregulation can be a huge part of what makes sensory processing disorders most difficult. A major reason for this, it is thought, is that sensory systems function to alert the body to danger, so that disordered sensory signals will trigger extreme danger reactions, like fear, anxiety, aggression, and escape.

But now more evidence from the psychological side point out the dangers of anxiety on sensory processing, spatial perception, and balance, informing us about the other side of the loop - sensory processing dysfunction not only makes anxiety worse, but anxiety makes sensory processing worse, so no wonder kids can quickly escalate into a meltdown or complete overload situation.

[...] researchers found with surprise that an otherwise unselected group of children diagnosed with anxiety actually had unrecognized balanced problems that could be measured quantitatively on tests of postural sway. More balance problems were seen if the children had to concentrate on a memory tasks (divided attention), but the greatest imbalance was seen when kids stood on a compliant surface (foam) that required more active balancing, and this imbalance was even more severe when children were asked to stand with eyes closed.

The findings are quite startling, and the raise the question whether we're really treating a lot of cerebellar kids with balance problems with anti-anxiety drugs.

[...] researchers found that treating anxious children with balance training (OT) resulted not only improved balance, but also reduced anxiety and higher self-esteem.

Hmmmmmm. Interesting, eh?!

Some autistic children have an affinity with animals. If horse riding also helps them develop a sense of balance, and that helps them with sensory processing and anxiety, then it looks like a win-win situation to me!

Some of what this also reminds me about is that I can make myself more anxious by tensing up and freezing. Sometimes when it's cold, I tense up (to shiver), and then because I'm tense, I get more anxious. I've been thinking that's about state dependent memory (muscles tensing = anxiety), but what if it's also about sensory processing? What if by tensing and making myself stiff, I inhibit my ability to process sensory input, and that makes me more anxious, and then I get stuck in a feedback loop?!

When I was recovering from PTSD, I learned that sometimes if I'm feeling shocky or starting to freeze up, I need to move around, just for the sake of moving. I need to look and see what's around me. Some of what I do with clients who are shocked, or traumatised, or who struggle with dissociation is about working with sensory contact and orienting functions, and that's been very helpful for some clients, who learn how to ground themselves more. I've always thought about that in terms of supporting contacting - what if it's also about balance?!

This is all very neat! And also, it makes me want to go out and bounce around on soft foamy surfaces more! And also, I guess there is always equine assisted gestalt therapy (seriously, google it!)