And that stating it makes it real.

During my last treatment programme, I started to notice that I was wary of putting thoughts and hopes into words. It was partly a trust issue (I no longer believed myself); partly because I didn’t want to be accountable (don’t say it, don’t have to do it); but, most often, because it all seemed futile – and what was the point of just words? I was scared of articulating something in case it didn’t work – and, sometimes, in case it did.

What I’m now beginning to realise, is that the articulation – whether in words, or images, or a headful of dreams – is the first, vital step. The destination may remain hazy and the journey, unknown; but putting it into words seems to help me begin.

This is far more subtle, I think, than goal setting. It’s like planting the seeds – giving them room to grow – and allowing yourself to see what happens. No judgements. No internal “all talk and no action” dialogue. No “but I might jinx myself” type thinking. Just the opportunity for a little discussion – and exploration – and the somewhat magical process from abstract idea to living thing.

So all that talk that I did before stopping bingeing and purging? That was intention setting and not, as I worried at the time, setting myself up for a fall. And, the dream diary that I wrote on squeaky hospital sheets and seemed somewhat ridiculous, given the circumstances? Well, maybe the fact that a lot of it came true was not just a bizarre coincidence – but because I gave the vision a place to exist.

The date-setting and dialogue around my last cigarette might have felt a little unbelievable, at the time – but whatever it injected into the process, certainly seems to have made it real. And, the chatter that’s currently going on around my ‘next steps’ is not, as my head likes to taunt, “a waste of breath Melissa, and words without any substance”; but is, instead, the pencil sketch of an ambition that will help me identify where I want to be.

This is, I think, what is meant by intention. Not a list of actions that I will be held accountable to, nor a strategy (yet) that will get me from A to B. Just the planting of a seed – and a vague glimmer of what B will look like – and an idea that your subconscious can mull over and then steer you towards…

Which makes the talking and dreaming part of the process; and takes the hows, and whys, and whens out of the equation (temporarily) -

Because, in the naming of an intention, the answers are already growing in your head.

To emphasise the point, the ‘fact’ on my shampoo bottles (shampoo: “who is the person you talk to most?” / conditioner: “yourself”) have concurred to make the message heard. This is clearly a subject that I am meant to be writing about –

Self-talking is something I now do on a regular basis. It kicks in, the moment my head kicks off – and seems to work through a few key themes:

Recognition

The recognition bit is around letting me know that my head has now gone off on its own merry way. It’s that little voice that says “whoa there, Melissa, what’s going on?” It recognises that things aren’t quite right; but also helps me to name the feeling by recognising where I have felt it before.

Realisation

When I have acknowledged the feeling, and realised what it is, then my self-talking voice can start to play detective, and work out where it began. This seems to involve walking my thoughts backwards to the first sense of the feeling (if possible), so that I can get some idea of how I’ve arrived at where I am.

Even if the progression is somewhat unclear.

Rationalisation

Rationalisation is the next step. It’s the voice that then chips in and points out where I’ve made some giant leaps in my thinking (like when I am catastrophising or have forgotten the colour grey) – or why it actually makes sense that I am feeling how I am (because I am hurt, or angry, for example), and that this is totally okay.

Reminding

Then comes the reminding. The reminder that I have been here before – and coped just fine. The reminder of the people and thoughts that I can turn to when I need a little support. The reminder that feelings are just feelings, and this too, will pass.

Makes sense.

But it doesn’t stop there! My self-talking has also developed a range of tones and approaches so that it can be doubly sure of being heard. Different feelings, times, and contexts, inevitably require different types of talk.

Compassion

This is the kind voice. It listens to what I’m saying and reassures me that it is okay. It is characterised by positivity (“you can do this”), and compassion (“you deserve to do this”), and reassurance (“I promise that you’ll be okay”).

Practical

This voice gives me ideas. It helps me when I can’t find the energy, and focuses on proactive help.

Minus the word “should”.

Practical is “calling a friend made you feel better last time you were alone” and “plan something for tomorrow if you’re feeling lonely today” and “you’ll feel better if you have a shower or give yourself a little TLC”. It’s the voice that I quite often want to tell to shut up – but is, very often, right.

Therapist

This voice is a professional. It helps me to unravel – and then resolve – what’s going on. It is closely linked to the realisation and rationalisation stages, and characterised by questions (“what are you feeling?”), and honesty (“what are you really feeling?”), and teasing things out –

So that they can then go away.

Cheerleader

This one’s still undeveloped, but I am marking it’s space. It is about cheering me on, and fighting my corner, and taking over the things that I normally wait for other people to say!

Perspective

This voice is the perspective, an objective take on what’s going on. It reminds me to look at the bigger picture, when I’m stuck on a detail; or the smaller picture, when I can’t see where it will all end.

*    *    *

So, that’s a whistlestop tour of what’s often going on my head – and I’d be really interested in hearing how other people have developed their ability to self-talk, or if they use any other techniques instead?

Related stuff: Self-talking and not self-harming; Self Management and Resisting Relapse.

I have become so entangled with the negative, recently, that I have stopped appreciating the things that are good. Have been so busy making comparisons and coveting other people’s treasures – that my own have become neglected and dull.

This is the kind of thinking that keeps my dissatisfaction high and kept my eating disorder thriving…

So I am going to step around the fear of acknowledging that which is precious to me (and therefore might be lost); and move beyond the guilt that often accompanies the good things (because having comes with the question of what I deserve); and get over my resistance to “things could be worse” type commentary…

Because, really, Melissa, things could be far far worse.

Sometimes it’s better to take a step back and allow the bigger picture in…

1. I am here

This is a good start and something I should never take for granted. I get, sometimes, horribly scared by reminders of our mortality – but this only demonstrates how infinitely precious life actually is. I know its hard, and confusing, and an endless search to unanswerable questions – but, ultimately, it’s a gift on a daily basis, which is something I will never let myself forget.

2. I have a roof over my head and a bed to sleep in

Okay, I might not be sleeping well in my bed at the moment, and I get that possessions don’t ensure happiness – but really, life would be quite different if I didn’t have somewhere to come back to at the end of the day. Because I’ve become accustomed to a roof over my head and a bed to sleep in, I sometimes forget that they’re actually things to be grateful for – or I stop noticing how good it feels to come home.

3. I have a job

This one’s like number 2: I’d deeply miss it if it wasn’t there. Okay, so I might not be in my dream job just yet – nor even know what the dream job looks like – but I am fortunate to be working (when it’s tough out there), and it’s good that I’m still learning (though I’m not sure where it’ll feature in the end), and there’s a certain amount of satisfaction in going to work in the morning and getting a job well done.

4. 20:19 ½ vision

I have screwed up most of my internal organs and a fair amount of the outer stuff too – but, as a recent eye test confirmed, my eyesight’s pretty impressive, so I’m grateful for my fabulous eyes and all the beautiful stuff that they let me see!

5. People

I get lonely often and, because the loneliness is so intense, I pay it far more attention than I do the times when I don’t feel so alone. There are plenty of these too. Afternoons with friends; phone calls; a lovely online community; nights out; some pretty amazing people – and the fleeting connections that manage, miraculously, to totally transform a day.

6. Music, Literature and the things that make me buzz

I love books. Love them. They’re a passport out – and in. A bottomless source of inspiration – and empathy – and insight – and learning – and sounds –

Music is the same, though I’m slightly more passive. It makes me smile – and cry – and dance – and, occasionally, attempt to sing -

My life would be far far emptier if these things didn’t factor in.

7. A brain

I’d definitely notice if this one was missing.

My brain might have been a bit slow on the uptake, recently, but the capacity – and potential – of the human mind, never ceases to amaze me – even when the connections are completely off key.

Emily Dickinson wrote….

“ The Brain – is wider than the Sky –
For – put them side by side –
The one the other will contain
With ease – and You – beside

The Brain is deeper than the sea –
For – hold them – Blue to Blue –
The one the other will absort –
A Sponges – Buckets – do – ”

…which says it far better than I ever can.

The realisation that I’d never be able to think freely under my eating disorder, and a desperation to ensure that any potential did not go to waste, were key motivations in my recovery – and I’d like to remember this every single day.

What are the things that you can return to – when life’s feeling difficult – to remind yourself that it’s sometimes pretty okay?

Listing things we love about ourselves is not something we are often encouraged to do, particularly in the UK. Modesty is seen as an attribute; and pride tends to come before a fall – or so I have always believed.

Accepting that an outfit looks nice takes places after some painful to-ing and fro-ing (“do you really think so?” – “yes really” – “but doesn’t it look out of place?” – “no, not at all”); and is, more often than not, accompanied by a mental twist (“she didn’t mean that”). Whilst blowing your own trumpet typically comes with an apology (“I don’t mean to brag but…”) or a quick justification (“well, that’s what so-and-so thought”) – so that it’s acceptably said.

Liking yourself might be mistaken for arrogance – or is halted, subconsciously, before the charge can be laid; and why wait for other people to point out your weaknesses if you can get there first…

You can not, I am beginning to learn, expect others to like you if you don’t even like yourself.

Listing the things I like about me therefore seems like a good place to start – but it also comes with a massive risk. I am setting myself up for contention and breaking what I have conceived to be a major social rule.

But then I’ve probably done a lot of that already, so here goes and in no particular order…

Things I like about being me -

1. That I get ridiculously excited about books -
2. And writing.
3. And the connections between the world and writing
4. My curiosity.
5. The birthday cards I make for my friends (when I remember) -
6. And how that makes them feel.
7. My hair when it goes wavy.
8. The fact that I do things that I’m scared of -
9. And that I can admit to my faults.
10. My ability to analyse everything (okay, it’s both annoying and a skill!).
11. The speed of my head.
12. How easily pleased I often am.
13. That I still write to my Granny every week even though she forgets.
14. My honesty.
15. The good ideas I have at work. Sometimes.
16. That I can still play the first page of the Bruch Violin concerto, even if my technique’s totally shot.
17. My slightly eclectic music taste.
18. How easily excited I am.
19. That I try to be kind.
20. My scrabble skills.
21. That I carry on writing the books I’m reading in my head to fall asleep.
22. My belief in Love.
23. And fairytales.
24. My genuine hugs.

Whew! There we go. That used a whole different thought process, and a lot of hushing and shushing of the voices that would have liked to jump straight in.

It is surprisingly hard to move beyond the objections and accept that I can like myself.

It feels unexpectedly unfamiliar to give myself a little positive endorsement – rather than fixating on the flaws.

But it is strangely pleasing to realise that I’m not quite as bad as I tend to think I am – and there’s rather a lot I like about being me.

And now it’s your turn. What are the things you like about you?

I have also realised that even getting to one is quite a challenge for me.

Despite my best attempts, a rather annoying voice chimes in and points out the irrationality of my thinking – and that’s before we’ve got anywhere near to blue caterpillars and talking cats.

“Today will be a great day” is countered by “you’re setting yourself up for a fall.” “Anything’s possible” is “provided” that things like rain, and ironing, and traffic jams, don’t get in the way. And, “crazy” ideas are negated with a “but”, or abandoned, mid creation, “because that would be ridiculous” –

Alice would disapprove. This is not at all what Lewis Carroll was talking about and my current approach is fundamentally flawed. I am vetting what’s possible – or not – before it even becomes a thought, let alone something I’d consider believing in.

So, in order to meet the target, I’m putting in a little preparation and trying to….

1. Create some space.

If I want to believe in the impossible, there has to be a little room for free thought. This means that, instead of pre-empting the problems or getting hung up on the practicalities, I am going to stop interrupting the flow with “buts” and “hows” and sarcastic interjections.

Thoughts are just that: ideas that float around inside your head. And, therefore, I do not have to decide the feasibility of everything that crosses my mind.

Nor do I have to stand in judgement –

2. Free thought.

As a timely Shakespeare-originated (!) tweet has reminded me: “there is nothing either good nor bad, but thinking makes it so.”

Step two is about not censoring – or judging – or immediately trampling over my thoughts. I’m asking the thought police to step back a little here, and resist the urge to analyse (“what does that say about you?”), or edit (“you can’t think that”), or condone (“what a terrible thing to think”) the stuff that’s going around my head….

A thought is just a thought – and it might even be a possibility, which would be a good thing -

3. Don’t be afraid of thoughts.

At work, I jump right out of the box in terms of thinking; at home, I’m somewhat contained. I am scared of wanting (as that might lead to disappointment); do not like expecting (in case that jinxes the chances of success); and, worry that loving and living will result in pain.

This puts a great big net around where I will – or won’t – let my head go.

Step 3 is, in some appropriately twisted thinking, about not cancelling out the impossibility before it is even a possibility. It is about letting myself want – and hope – and look forward to things – before I decide that they’re never going to happen, and douse down any excitement with a big shot of pessimism.

In reality, my negativity is a little displaced…

4. From impossible to possible: a little proof.

The final piece of preparation is about getting a little collateral behind me and remembering the value of believing in the impossible.

It is not just a glossified soundbite, Melissa, but something that can move you on.

In the past year, I’ve done lots of things that an earlier version of me would have claimed to be “impossible”. The biggies are stopping throwing up and getting to a healthy weight, the others sound small but were pretty momentous to me (from learning that sitting on my sofa for an evening is okay to nailing the handbrake habit).

I have done things that I swore weren’t possible and those that I didn’t even allow myself to consider –

So, I need to remember, as the next phase starts, that letting myself entertain the notion of six impossible things might inform my life in a very positive way; and that starting each day with a little imagination, might really help me shape what’s to come.

And as a reminder…

1. Clouds Clearing
2. Unexpected weight – gains
3. The Saturday Night Experience
4. Filled Pasta (and life after an eating disorder)
5. Feeling the fear – and getting better
6. Things that have cropped up along the way!

I forget sometimes, that it really doesn’t take a lot.

One kind word or a gentle gesture, and suddenly, the bridge between me and the rest of the world seems infinitely smaller.

It is important, every now and then, to remember this.

That some days, when it feels like everything is stacked against you and it’s hard to see the point, a random smile can magically pierce through the fogginess and reach somewhere that means you’re not really on your own.

And sometimes, when you’re feeling out of sorts or nothing seems to fit; then the sudden click of a connection or the warmth of a friendly word can reach somewhere, deep inside, and you realise that these fleeting moments and elusive sparks are probably what we’re looking for…

So I will remind myself – when I’m off fighting my demons or scrabbling around for an elusive elixir – that it’s important to keep things in perspective and stick my head above the parapet, every once in a while –

Because often, it doesn’t take a lot.

I tend to find the ending, daunting; and the expectations, a little too much to take.

I get a little scared that I will wake up, on the first of January, to a completely alien landscape –

Or that it will be completely the same.

For a few years, I worried that I wouldn’t wake up at all.

I’ve clearly brought into the ‘new year new you’ hype and the inevitable annual apocalypse; so, this year, I’m getting prepared, and I’m trying to enter 2010 on a more positive footing –

It is an opportunity, and not an ending.

Step 1. A little reflection.

2008 was all about giving up bingeing; and 2009 about stopping smoking – and then getting to a healthy weight. The two were not connected, – but they were both big steps in the right direction.

If you look at how far you’ve come in just one year, the prospect of another one is quite exciting. And, if it doesn’t feel like you’ve gone anywhere (2001-8), then it’s an excuse to draw a line in the sand and use the new year as an excuse to try something a bit different –

Step 2. An opportunity for change.

I am as bad with change as I am with new years (no big surprises there!); and, any big alteration to my daily routine demands a justification or an excuse. New Year does just that. I can stop taking 45 minutes to complete my pre-prescribed morning routine because things are fundamentally different now that there is a 10 – instead of a 09 – at the end of the date. I can try a few new foods next year, because there’s a “reason” to do something a bit different which might just pass my head’s firm demands –

It’s all about looking forward – which is step 3.

When you’re caught up in the minutiae of daily life, it’s easy to get lost in the detail and forget where you’re going. New Years let you stop.

Think.

And reassess.

Resolutions don’t really do it for me; however, it’s good to have a sense of direction and a few things you’d like to tick off at the end of the next year –

So, this year, I’m keeping my fears in check and remaining optimistic; because, you can change your life in a year, even if overnight’s a bit of a tall order.

There is nothing more important than a little hope.

It is that small glimmer of possibility, that makes the unbearable, bearable; and, changes the frustration of ‘can’t’ to ‘might’.

Without possibility, there is no hope; and, without hope – well, what’s the point?

At the height of my eating disorder, hope was horribly absent. I had tried – and failed – so frequently it felt like I had used up my quota of optimism and energy; that I had exhausted all the “but I could try this” strategies…

I was wrong. There is always something to try; and, so, there is always hope:

An idea from a friend that you hadn’t thought of or a suggestion from a book that you’d almost overlooked.

An impossibility in one situation – that becomes a possibility in the next; a slight change that didn’t work the first time round – but holds the golden key when the time is right.

The one person that, against all odds, has made it; and, the millions who amaze on a daily basis.

The little gems of proof that point to an alternative way and show that change is possible and recovery can happen –

In the depths of my depression, hope was elusive, and tempered by distrust. It was accompanied, automatically, with a warning of disappointment: going up just leads to a bigger coming down….

This kept me stuck. There are always possibilities; and, so, there is nothing to lose in a little hope -

Because the zig zags get smaller and go upwards; and, a disappointment is only a disappointment if you discard the learning.

Because the small glimmers of light at least keep you looking forward; and, one setback is only a catastrophe when there are no other options –

Which can’t happen when there is always something I can try –

And there is, therefore, always hope.

Which is why my next strategy may come as a bit of a surprise!

‘Five Good Things’ is my version of the ‘things that I am grateful for today’ concept. I have used it at various stages in my illness, my recovery, and in those horrible periods when life seemed pretty bleak and it was hard to see the point.

Interestingly – and unintentionally – it also proved a great way of falling asleep at night; particularly during times when my head refused to be quiet or the emptiness of going to bed with a mind full of miserable thoughts was just too much to bear.

Now, it’s good for days when I have that nagging sense of dissatisfaction, or when I get caught up in the hype and forget that it’s the little things that really make the difference –

Because ‘Five Good Things’ is really simple and all about recognising the brief moments of specialness – so that they become a lot bigger.

The premise of ‘Five Good Things’ is virtually self explanatory: you have to think of 5 things (as a minimum) that have happened that day which have made you feel good.

If you start this when the eating disorder’s still quite dominant, it’s best to exclude things like “successfully evaded lunch” (which doesn’t really feel very good when you break it down, and was always tinged with elements of deceit or frustration or fear for me); however, there are no real rules, you can’t get it wrong – and it’s certainly not meant to be too strenuous, in fact, you don’t even need to write anything down (although it’s kind of nice to have something on paper at first).

Some examples

If you’re struggling to find a starting point or if you really can’t think of anything positive, here are a few of the things that I used to note down…

People:

• An unexpected smile
• a passing conversation with someone
• doing something nice for someone (eg making a cup of tea!)
• getting/giving a complement
• a hug
• sharing a joke
• an interesting conversation
• speaking with someone you haven’t spoken to for a while
• speaking to someone you haven’t spoken to before
• sending a card
• the special people that are in your life (nb. in the early stages when few good things seemed to happen, naming 5 special people was enough to make me feel a little better on its own)

Emotions and Senses

• something that made you laugh
• doing something that you’re scared of
• making a small change;
• a long, hot soak
• going for a swim
• skipping with Flo Rida (or an alternative artist!)
• scented candles
• stretching (llike when you wake up in the morning)

Nature:

• Autumn colours
• the feeling of crisp air in winter
• not getting caught in torrential rain (being grateful for what didn’t happen is good!)
• the sun
• the sun on snow
• sheep – or any other animal that you drive past on the way to work

Miscellaneous:

• Reading a good book
• a killer outfit – and, particularly, rediscovering a killer outfit
• nice nail varnish
• a favourite TV programme
• scrabble on i-phones
• the feel of fresh sheets
• the ironing (but only if you want to)
• sorting something out (eg that pile of unopened mail)

Variations and add-ons:

1. Giving yourself Five Good Things -

Once you’ve started to recognise the things that make you feel good, you can start upping your dose on days when you’re struggling a little.

It’s best to work out the things that are not dependent on factors beyond your control – a hot bath as opposed to someone paying you a complement; or a Family Guy repeat instead of Top Shop having a great new and hugely under-priced collection in – but you reach a point when you can refer back to your ‘good things’ list and start giving them to yourself when you’re feeling a little blue.

2. Trending

I was quite demanding before I realised – thanks to 5GT –  that it was not the expensive or the new things that actually made the difference on a daily basis; it was, for me, all about other people.

Five Good Things is an interesting way of working out what’s important to you in life, particularly if you’ve been used to focussing on one thing – like food, or the size of your wardrobe….

Not with a rope – I hasten to add – but kiddie style, with an i-pod and Flo Rida, and because the sun is shining, even though I have had a bleak day.

I have learnt how to cheer myself up now.

I have been shown a few little tricks to ward off the black clouds and evade the tug of addiction…

A good long walk.

Exercise and endorphins: it’s a drag for the first ten minutes and then they kick in. If you’re angry, nothing beats the sensation of pounding out the stress; if you’re stuck in your own head, it’s good to get a change of scenery; if you’re struggling to make sense of something, things seem to click into place with the steps; and, if you’re none of the above – well, the sleep at the end is an added bonus.

Feel Good Music.

This can accompany the above or act as a whole new solution! I think it’s like the endorphins thing: there’s science between the tempo and the response – or something?

Feel good music is probably personally defined; but, for me, it’s got to be: something upbeat that almost makes your body respond; ‘good’ music, ie. something that you consciously appreciate rather than background traffic; and, something with a nice strong rhythm to kind of jerk you into action. Feel good music is not: anything soppy, overtly happy or overly sad; or anything that, historically, makes you cry.

Swimming.

This works along the same lines as walking, with the added benefit of being incredibly boring. If, as I do, you enjoy the sensation of water, the boredom is slightly tempered; but there’s nothing like the monotony of lengths to get your head in order and work through some difficult thoughts.

Laughter Therapy

This one has its own personal page. You can induce laughter – as long as you’ve identifed your personal triggers and have a few DVDs in stock. Just in case…

Phone a friend.

This is good but comes with a word of caution: sometimes people are out, and phoning friends that don’t pick up can have the adverse effect….

The premise is, however, simple: talking is a great elixir and it’s better to talk through the negativity than to get pulled down by it.

NB. Making it feel better is good when the negativity is caused by something external or something that is now over; ‘going with it’ is for the times when, unless you deal with it, the feelings will just keep coming back.

Going with it.

Going with it is not the same as wallowing. It is about recognising that you’re not feeling very nice – and giving yourself a break. This is what I do when I am feeling things that I know I don’t like – loneliness, fear, anger, hurt – and need to stay with them for a little while so that they can come out.

Going with it just means not trying to make it better – and learning that it will pass.