an intense weekend of business

The very clever Hanna of Pearls & Scissors left a wise little comment on my most recent self employment update the other week...

"That sounds exciting! But, don't forget to take time for yourself as well - you have to take care of your most valuable employee, right? :D"

...and I've only just started to realise the importance of her words.

The week before last I was contacted on Tuesday to see if I'd like to take part in an event that Friday. Obviously, with my business being very small still, I'm not going to say no to any opportunities that come along, despite the fact that I only had a couple of days to prepare - and knowing full well that I had craft fairs booked for both the Saturday and Sunday of that weekend... 3 fairs in 2.5 days - no problem, right?

{illustration by Lisa Congdon}

Friday
An awesome night: lots of fun (after getting un-lost), met a bunch of nice people and a couple of new business contacts - plus I had a few sales - so I reckon it was worth the stress and crazy panic on Friday afternoon. Yummy curry wrap for dinner, then home and in bed by midnight. Goodo!

Saturday
Up early for our trek to Tooting way down in Saaaaaaff London. Finding the place was lots of fun - venues tucked down little alleys seem to be a theme of this weekend. Once we got there Jms helped me set up my little booth before leaving me to it, but not before taking a quick peek around all the other stalls - where I fell in love with a pink floral plush stegosaurus made by Gemma of Molly Moo and Jessica Too. I couldn't resist - I named him Steggy and he sat on my stall for the rest of the day, amongst the glittery hair bows and hot air balloons. He loved it!

Alison came to visit me in the afternoon and helped me pack away at the end of the fair, which was lovely. She left me at Victoria and I tubed it back up to Norf London. By the time I got home I had a crazy high temperature and was shivering. I ended up going straight to bed for 3 hours before waking up around 9pm feeling super hungry - no surprise since I'd not eaten since that morning. Oopsy. The boy ordered me a pizza and that made everything better. I think sleep and food was all I really needed - and I slept like a baby that night, despite my 3 hour "emergency nap".

Sunday
Woke up mega early as usual - my 5am wake-up time is getting a bit ridiculous now. Had a bit of a read until it was a sensible time to get up, then it was off to the studio for a few hours of uber productive work before the next fair. It was a much, much quieter day than yesterday with not many sales at all - but a lovely chance to spend the day chatting with my stall buddies, and making swapsies - I got a gorgeous bunny purse from Caroline of Funk E Angels in return for a bunch of glittery bows, sooooo cute! I also bought a lovely Christmassy-smelling cupcake soap from Philly of Everyday Love. Such a lovely day, and much calmer than the rest of the weekend! Phew.

~~~

I've always believed that I work better under pressure, but this weekend was something else entirely. The fact that my body decided it needed to shut down somewhat on Saturday evening is a teeny tiny sign that perhaps I need to learn where my limits are.

Another weekend like that and I'm bound to burn myself out, so maybe I should be slightly more careful with which opportunities I decide to take up in the future. Saying yes to everything that comes along might be all well and good if I didn't suffer from stupid anxiety and panic attacks, but I can't risk my health for the sake of my business - and as Hanna so rightly said, since it is my business, I'm the one that I need to look after most, right?!

saying goodbye to my biggest phobia

A bunch of things happened in various swimming pools, seas and other bodies of water when I was a child that meant that by the time I was about 11 or 12 I was terrified of water. Like properly scared of it, so much so that if I was forced to take a shower instead of a bath it would always end in tears. To normal people that might seem ludicrous, and yeah, that's what phobias are - they are irrational and this one caused me to feel irrationally unsafe in water.

You would kind of expect that since the names of phobias take the form of Greek words, that the fear of water would be called hydrophobia, but no, apparently that's what rabid animals suffer from, with the foaming at the mouth and everything. I don't get that, I just get panicky.

Fear of water is actually called 'aquaphobia'. It's a weird little mix of Latin and Greek, and I've never particularly liked it, it doesn't seem severe enough to describe the utter panic I feel when there's water on me and I have no control over it. It's hard to explain the feeling, but it's easy to convey exactly what I feel when I hear the word "aqua"...

...and I'm certainly not afraid of those charming Danish boys and Lene, the sweet singing Norwegian!

Anywho, so despite having never successfully learned to swim, having experienced panic attacks in the sea and crying fits in swimming pools -

- I just spent an hour in a swimming pool and nothing bad happened!

The last time I went in a pool was when I tried to get over my fear of water at university, and a friend immediately dunked my head in the water. Not cool. That put a quick end to my wanting to get over my fear, and yet again I left the pool a tearful mess. 

Tonight I ventured to my local pool with the encouragement of my lovely boy. Unlike almost everyone who I have ever confided in about this fear, he was completely understanding and kind about it, and even more helpful than that, he didn't tell me that I was stupid to be scared of water, like so many people have said in the past.

Even though I felt like an absolute idiot in the 3ft 6inch deep shallow end of the pool, he was completely patient and made me feel that I was doing superbly when I was able to glide just a few metres. Trust me, that was a big ask in itself. After that we held onto the edge of the pool and practised kicking our legs, before I tentatively let go of the edge (still in less than 4ft of water, mind you) and tried to use my arms in a way other than flailing about wildly, which is my normal water-based action.

It wasn't the most successful swimming trip ever, but at least I was able to get in the pool this time. I got splashed and didn't cry or scream or have a panic attack or anything. It doesn't seem like much, but for me this was huge.

Woo, go me! * proud face *

anxiety update + a neon pegasus

minor headache print by Jamie Fales of NoosedKitty

Do you ever wake up feeling like there's a walrus on your head, scraping your skull with its tusks and generally behaving like a darn nuisance up there?

Over the last few days I have had a crazy weird tension headache that just will not go away no matter what I do - I've tried upping my fluid intake, I've tried painkillers, I've tried sleeping, I've tried long hot baths, I've tried getting fresh air, I've tried to relax (not easy when your head feels like it's going to explode) - but nothing seems to have helped.

It's only pretty rarely that I get these kinds of headaches - maybe three times a year - but they are just such a drag that I haven't been able to function properly, and it super sucks.

As well as the ongoing pressure pain in my head, I've been having the most horrible nightmares for the last couple of weeks, and am being haunted by anxiety dreams involving my loved ones, which are absolutely the worst type.

I've always been a worry wart, but you kinda know something's wrong when the worrying starts to get painful. It's true that I'm worrying about a lot of stuff and my head/heart/life is in bit of a transitional place lately, but I've always kinda thought that was normal for me to worry, and that if I wasn't worrying something is wrong. Now I'm not so sure.

Is it normal to worry?
Is it normal to worry so much?
Is it normal to worry so much about things I can't actually control or do anything about?

I've been taking anxiety meds since my crazy panic attack last year, and although they do seem to help, I'm obviously going through a blip in my life which is causing my brain to overload with negative emotions and anxiety. I know I'll get through it, but it could be a gradual process and I'm not sure how to begin. People are constantly telling me not to worry, and I know they mean well, but they are just making things worse. It's all well and good telling someone they need to calm down, but if they are suffering from an anxiety disorder, saying things like that will no doubt make them worse - being told to calm down when you don't think there's anything wrong with the level of worry you're experiencing will just make you worry about the fact that people think you're worrying too much. It's a never ending circle, and I know I need to find a way to branch out from it, but it's hard work.

Does that make sense?

Perhaps I just need to watch Neon Pegasus on repeat a few more times:

Do you have any tips for helping to relax/getting rid of all this brain fuzz?

craft fair anxieties are fuzzing up my brain

About 6 years ago, back when I was an actual artist who sold original art and had exhibitions in real galleries, I took part in an art fair. I had a lovely little booth in which I put up white shelves, and lined them with blue ribbon and rhinestones - I just love me some rhinestones, they make everything better. The shelves held lots of framed prints, and the table in front of me had catalogues of all of my pieces, with price lists, a board for contact information and business cards. The fair was a big success, and I made some good friends there, as well as expanding my own art collection through swapsies with other stallholders.

It feels like an age ago, and I'm no longer in a position to be making the same/similar work, mainly as I no longer have access to an etching studio, nor the funds to rent space in one. I've long given up on the dreams of being "a real artist" and I'm more than content to make the work I am currently making: cute illustrations, embroideries of foxes and things made out of all the glitter. OK, it might not be high art or whatever, but doing anything creative is better than doing nothing creative, plus it's just as much a skill to be a craftsperson as it is to be an artist, it's just different, and I'm fine with that.

I'm having a stall next week - this time it is a craft stall. I haven't had a stall at a craft fair since I was about 12 years old, when I used to sell hand-made jewellery and hand-painted mirrors. Those were the days - when it didn't matter about making a profit 'cause it was super fun and your little face lit up with delight every time someone who wasn't a member of your family bought something from your stall. This time, it's all going to be members of the public, no family to keep me feeling safe, just the big wide world...

What if people don't like what I've made?
What if they think I've priced things too high?
What if they think my stuff isn't worth buying?
And what if they tell me so?

 

anxiety girl by Natalie Dee

It kinda feels like I've reverted back to that nervous 12 year old, but this time it does matter, this time I've paid for the stall and I won't have my mum around to buy me an ice cream afterwards if I don't sell anything or if the whole thing gets too much.

I've not had any proper panic attacks for ages (woohoo for inhalers and steroids!) but I've been feeling the anxiety growing over the last week, and it's completely disproportionate.

Things I need to remind myself when I'm being a worry-face:

This is just one fair in a small hall in South London.

It wasn't expensive to rent.

It's not the end of the world if I don't sell anything.

It's just for practice - there will be plenty of other fairs.

Constructive criticism is useful, that's kind of the point of it.

It will give me a chance to analyse/edit my product range.

I can gauge interest from the public face-to-face, which is way better than online.

~~~~~~~

I know it's a step in the right direction, business-wise, I just can't get the worry out of my head. Grrr, silly brain.

breathing in the blue

Last week I had another session with my holistic therapist. I haven't been doing great lately - I'm finding I have no problems at all with creativity and inspiration (in fact the ideas just keep on coming, yay!) but I'm still finding it hard to get motivated and I'm certainly going through a bit of communication crisis at the moment, whereby I'm finding I can't actually do it.

Ever since that stupid anxiety attack I've become very wary of my breathing, in particular how shallow it seems, and how much effort it is to actually take in a long deep breath. Post A&E I went to see my nurse (she is Irish and awesome) to have a breathing test but she said although my breathing wasn't great, I wasn't asthmatic. That's good at least. It does, however, mean that I have to go back to the hospital for another chest x-ray, as neither of us can work out why my breathing is suddenly such an issue.

Be, Do, Breathe by satchelandsage

Since I have a tendency to worry, I wouldn't be surprised if it's totally anxiety-related, as in, I'm not breathing properly because I'm scared that I won't be able to breathe again and I'm over-analysing my breathing, making it seem like there's a problem when actually it's probably fine. I would hate to go to the hospital and waste their time if there's nothing wrong with my little lungs and it's all actually psychological, but I guess it's better to be safe than sorry.

In my session we talked about the breathing issues, and I tried some deep breathing exercises before getting on to the main part of the session. I was asked to concentrate on the colour blue as it is associated with the throat and with communication. I had to imagine being surrounded by absolute blue-ness and let myself be absorbed into it and enveloped by it, letting it fill my lungs and chest. It didn't take long to start breathing blue into my system, and to be totally taken over by it.

It was probably the most relaxed I have ever felt, and it was easy for me to focus on the correct colour, for once - I imagined a shimmering, opalescent sea with mermaids frolicking in the waves and on nearby rocks. It was incredibly exhilarating and yet also incredibly serene, and as the session was drawing to a close I didn't want to leave this little paradise I had created for myself, I wanted to stay and make friends with the mermaids.

Sea Friends by Andrea Gutierrez

anxiety analysis

Firstly, I can't get this song out of my head since being at A&E. I'd forgotten how much I like it, though it's not entirely appropriate to be singing it to myself after the horrible experience I had, but hey, the mind deals with things in peculiar ways.

Secondly, after the shock of my life, I have been reading about all sorts of anxiety issues: anxiety disorders, anticipatory anxiety (which my dad believes caused the attack) and about panic attacks and what I can do to try and make sure it doesn't happen again.

Although the most important aspect of the recovery process is understanding why things got as bad as they did, that is something I still haven't worked out. Admittedly, a lot of changes have taken place over the last year, but most of them I felt had been at least somewhat resolved. My silly brain seems to have been keeping everything hidden away in secret, when what I really need to do is get it all out and deal with it.

So, without further ado, stuff that I need to get out of my system as it is stressing me out, on some level:

• my job: is OK, but it's not what I want to be doing with my life - I feel I am letting myself down by not following my dreams and ambitions of being an illustrator/artist/anything creative, but I also feel that it would be irresponsible of me to resign from a job in an unsteady economic climate where a lot of people are unable to find jobs but I am fortunate to have one. Though similarly, my job could go to someone who really needs a job, which would be a good thing, but would also mean that I would be solely responsible for my earnings (scary), and would be working waaaaaaay longer days than I do at the moment, plus being an artist isn't the kind of job where you can earn much, and even if you can, it's not the same as having a steady paycheck every month.

• my relationship: is complicated.

• my friends: are a bit of a weird one at the moment. I have felt more and more distant from them in the last few months, partly because I go through stages of being sociable and then times when I just need to be on my own, and partly because I feel I let them down with all my rubbish being ill and inability to do anything or go anywhere fun because "my shoulders hurt" or "I'm just really tired" or whatever. I need to make more of an effort to see them, but at the same time, I feel as though they are just getting on with things and leaving me behind. I don't get invited to things, because I'll no doubt be ill, and it hurts so much that they aren't being patient or supportive. I feel abandoned by the majority of them.

• my social life: is pretty much non-existent, though in some ways that's good as it means I have a lot of time by myself, but it's also bad because it means I have a lot of time by myself.

• my house: is awesome, but I don't feel as though I am using it to it's potential - I have a wonderful studio, which I can never find time to tidy up, which stresses me out when I want to create something because it means I first have to deal with the mess and then just never bother getting round to the creative stuff because I don't want to have to deal with it.

• my creativity: is being neglected because my studio is in such a state, and though the ideas are still coming, none of them are ever actually realised, which makes me feel guilty.

• my family: are awesome, but they live so far away and I miss them so much. I desperately wanted a hug from my mum and dad when I couldn't breathe the other night.

• my kitten: is perfect, but I worry about her when I'm at work all day and she's on her own - what if she goes behind the bed and can't get out, or what if she's climbing and something falls on her, or what if there's a fire in the building? The list goes on.

• my body: is constantly in pain, and the more I worry about my shoulders hurting, the more tense they get and the more they hurt, which then spreads down my arms and down into my back and makes me feel worse, which then means I have to take time off work, which then makes me feel guilty for taking time off work.

• my sleeping pattern: is all over the place, and has been for about 10 months, some nights I get no sleep at all, sometimes my brain's working overtime, sometimes I'm stressing about the day I've just had, sometimes I'm worrying about my business. I worry about everything. I also suffer from anxiety dreams, and often wake up in a panicky sweat.

• my eating habits: are getting much better, though I am still not drinking enough water or eating enough vegetables. I'm working on it.

• my fitness level: is not what it should be for a twenty-something year old. I'm still young, I should be able to run around the place and have the energy to get up and do stuff, but I don't.

• my projects: aren't being realised as I keep having to put things off when I feel crappy or unmotivated, which means I am also letting down the people who have asked me to do stuff for them.

• my "self": I feel as though I'm not fully me, I'm always tired and feel so horribly ill a lot of the time recently. I used to be the bubbly one, the cheeky one, the fun one, but I just feel as though I'm not really a real person any more. I can never relax properly and let myself just be, I always need to be doing something from my never-ending to-do list, otherwise I feel I'm letting myself or others down.

I'm sure there are other things as well, but I think that's plenty to be getting on with. Now I can see what it is that is stressing me out, and now it's out in the open, hopefully it should help me get over it.

The first thing I noticed when re-reading the stuff I wrote up there was the amount of times I wrote that I felt guilty or that I'm letting people down. Guilt is one of the worst feelings ever, but I'm pretty sure all that stuff I feel guilty about is actually rubbish and not worth feeling guilty about: I shouldn't feel guilty when I'm in pain and can't do something social because of it, that will no doubt just prolong the pain, by adding guilt to the mix. I think the most important thing I can do is realise that other people probably don't see it the way I do, perhaps they are disappointed when I can't do something, but I doubt they really give it much thought, and nor should I. It is what it is.

I also have to deal with this problem of not being able to relax so that even if I do feel as though I'm letting people down, I'll have a way of dealing with it before it reaches panic levels.

I'm thinking of trying out meditation or yoga or something similar, which should help the muscle pain as well as helping me psychologically deal with the anxiety stuff.

I started a journal in January, and although it's not a proper "dear diary" type thing, it helps me document how I have been feeling on a daily basis and what I have been up to, plus any creative ideas I have. In a way it's not so great in that it's like another to-do list of all the ideas I haven't yet completed (there goes the guilt again), but I think overall it is far more positive than negative, as it gives me something to focus on, even if it is only for a few minutes a day.

How do you combat anxiety/stress?

an alarming realisation

image by pronouced you

I have always thought of myself as one of those people who rarely gets ill. Sure, as a kid I got the same stuff as everyone gets, but as an adult, very little. This is the limit of my adulthood dis-ease: influenza for a week or so during my first year of university, food poisoning about 18 months ago after a dodgy pub meal, the occasional headache (my own fault for not drinking enough water) and the odd bout of hayfever in the summer, but that's pretty much the extent of my illnesses. That is, until this year.

I don't know what has (or hasn't) happened to me, but for some reason my body seems to have saved up all the illnesses I maybe should've had over the last 20 years and crammed them all into 2011... and we're only 4 and a bit months into the year. So far, that includes: gastric flu, months of insomnia, gallstones (ouchy), other abdominal pains, severe shoulder pain, muscle pain throughout my arms, various blood tests to check for all sorts of stuff, high blood pressure, influenza x 2, and numerous fevers and viruses. That all sucks, but none of it was as horrible or terrifying as what happened on Friday night.

I had had a pretty average day at work, not particularly stressful, just normal... apart from the racing heartbeat and shortness of breath I had been experiencing all day. I (foolishly) didn't really think much of it, until that evening when it was still happening, and worsening. My heart had started beating so hard I was sure I could see it beating in my chest, and my breathing was so fast and shallow that I felt as though I was barely taking in any breath at all. I felt exhausted and light-headed and knew something was wrong. I didn't feel as though I could take in enough breath to talk properly, so my friend James who was with me called NHS Direct to ask a nurse what to do. He was told to immediately take me to Accident & Emergency at the local hospital. I can't even try to explain how terrified I was. It was a struggle to even walk to the car, my chest had seriously started hurting by now, plus I was exhausted from the effort of trying to breathe. The journey was tough. It was only a couple of miles, but it felt like it was taking hours, and I felt as though I was suffocating. We finally got to the hospital, where I had to fill in forms and wait in a packed waiting area for an hour before being ushered into a room for yet another blood test. Next came another long wait before seeing a nurse and explaining, as much as I could with so little breathe in my poor chest, what was wrong and my medical history to date. I was taken through to a ward behind the consultation room, where I was asked several times if I suffered from asthma. I don't. That puzzled them.

The ward was small, and almost all the cubicles were already occupied. I could hear people being ill behind thin blue curtains, others screaming, and some drunk people shouting and swearing. It wasn't the most soothing place to be, and it took another hour for me to be seen. By now the cough I'd had for the last few months was really bad and my chest and arms tingled with pinprick-like pain every time I coughed. Once in my own cubicle, the doctor asked me if I suffered from asthma, asked about my medical history and after listening to my chest, being told that I had had a cough for the last 12 weeks and that I suffer from high blood pressure, sent me to have my chest x-rayed. I have only ever had one x-ray before, my wrist at the age of 4. This was quite different - it's one thing to break a bone, which is almost-always healable, but to need an x-ray for something as important as your lungs was more than a little unnerving.

Thankfully, the x-ray came back clear, but despite that minor reassurance, my breathing and heart rate had not calmed down, and I was still having pain in my chest, which had been slowly getting worse. My blood tests came back OK too, which I was relieved by, of course, but it did pose the question: what exactly was wrong with me and what had caused it? If my body was physically OK, why did I feel as though I was having a heart attack? I was told I was probably suffering from a huge anxiety attack (which by then had lasted more than 30 hours) and was given steroids to help relieve the pain in my chest and an inhaler for when breathing was particularly difficult. I was glad to be told I wasn't suffering from some terrible heart or lung problem as my paranoid little brain had started telling itself, but it was still frustrating to not know why this had happened or what I could do if it happened again. It was nearly 2am by the time I was able to leave, and I hadn't slept for over 48 hours, so I didn't really have a chance to consider that until the next morning.

I was able to sleep for a few hours, which my body so desperately needed, but I am still no closer to working out why this actually happened. If it happens again, I can at least put myself at ease by telling myself I'm not having a heart attack, but other than that I just have to wait it out and "try to relax". I don't know if it's the same with everybody, but being told to "try to relax" just makes me even more panicky, since it makes me aware of how hard it actually is for me to relax. I've always been pretty highly-strung and get stressed out easily, though in some instances this can be a good thing - I work especially well if I know I have a deadline coming up, for example. But stressing about lots of little things that gradually mount up, and eventually build up to my own personal un-conquerable Everest can cause huge problems which, I have now learned, explode in horrible ways like this. There's no one big thing stressing me out at the moment, just the usual abundance of small things, which I hadn't really considered a problem until now. I don't ever want to feel the way I felt that night, I have never been so scared in my life. It's about time I faced this anxiety problem I seem to have, but how can someone who has been this tense for this long possibly attempt to fix it???

Perhaps if the Accident & Emergency department served these while waiting to be seen, it could have relieved some of the stress and anxiety I was feeling. Perhaps I'll write to my local MP and suggest it.

from jducour on Etsy