Anxiety

You take away my confidence in myself. You make me believe I can't so fervently that I actually can't. You are a physical being, a monster inside of my head and my chest and my legs. You stop me from breathing and you make my eyes continually leak. You jumble up my mind so that my thoughts come out backwards and upside down and incoherent and you turn me into a blubbery mess. You stop me from going outside. You stop me from opening the front or answering the telephone. You make me want to cut myself and you tell me that I'm useless. You tell me I am weak.

But I am not. 

I am strong.

I am strong because I have fought you for so many years. I am strong because with you on my back my load to bear is so much more than it ever was before and I am still here. I am still going. I am strong because you have made me open up to my friends and my family and the world and I know I don't have to fight this alone. And I CAN fight you.

With every inch of my being I will fight you.

You will not beat me.

Why?

I recently realised that I have never really explained the ‘why’ behind the blog. Yes, I've told you I love cooking and what my conditions that make me a spoonie are, but I've never explained why I think they belong in a blog together. I think I’m going to try and do that now!

Food and health are inextricably linked. For starters food is how we get energy, not only to have the energy to go out to the shops but also it gives our bodies the building blocks to function right down to a cellular level. I’m not even close to being an expert on nutritional science but it is something I am fascinated in learning more about. So we need to eat in order to survive and not only that but we need to eat the right things in order to function properly.

But that is not the why behind this blog, there are plenty of places out there that offer this kind of information, in fact what got me more interested was hearing about Nutritiously Natasha, so if you are interested in a food as medicine/nutritional science side of things it is definitely worth giving her blog a read.

For me, there’s a different connection. The food I am eating and cooking is very indicative of my current health. On a physical level, when I am in too much pain to really move, carrying pots and pans, chopping and just the act of thinking up a meal to cook can be quite simply beyond my capabilities. Even on a relatively good day I have to be aware of things like the weight of pans and I wear wrist supports to help stabilise my wrist and thumb. Then of course there is the complexity of a meal, when I am so tired I can’t think straight I’m not going to be making a feast. You are more likely to find me eating a sandwich or pasta and pesto (if I can carry the kettle). On a mental level, depression has a huge effect on your appetite. When I've been unable to get out the house for a while and I've been barely able to cook for myself it starts getting me pretty down, so even the desire to eat can just disappear.

It’s not all doom and gloom though! Cooking isn't just affected by my mental state, it also affects my mental state. When I’m feeling down and I don’t feel like doing anything, actually cooking something and enjoying it has a hugely positive impact on my state of mind. Cooking good food doesn't just feed the body, it feeds your soul. I don’t mean any kind of religious or even philosophical concept here, just that internal warmth that a really good meal can give you. And then you've achieved something! It’s amazing how when I’m feeling down and have no motivation, just starting something is the hardest part. Because once you've started, and then done, it gives you motivation to do more, and suddenly you haven’t just been a total waste a space but a goddamn superhero! And when that doing also includes creating a delicious and nourishing meal for yourself (and maybe others) what can be better?

As my last couple of posts have explained, I’ve been going through a bad patch recently. It’s funny though, after a couple of weeks in bed recovering from my last hospital appointment I seem to have suddenly woken up and started to feel OK. And every day since I have pretty much been OK. It’s not like I’m not experiencing any pain or fatigue or anything, but it’s manageable. My anxiety levels have been minimal and again, manageable and I’m not sure why but I really do feel like I’m doing and handling things OK.  And do you know what else? I’ve been eating fantastic food!

My amazing lunch at Silo Brighton. If you live down here you MUST go! 

Clockwise from top left: Indulgent (hungover) fry up at seven bees cafe, kemptown. Gluten free chocolate cake made by yours truly, a go to easy dinner, prawns with chilli, garlic, slow roasted tomatoes and lots of wilted leaves and lunch at Artisan Cafe (one of my new favourite places)

I just need to find my mojo

So...it’s been a while (she says emerging out of her pit).

I've actually sat down to write quite a few times. I've got about 4 half written posts sitting on my computer, but none of them felt quite right.

I have been feeling a bit guilty about leaving the last post a massive rant, but then I also have to learn not to berate myself over things like that. I needed to write that post, it did me good, so the last thing I should do is tell myself off about it (easier to say than do!)

You might have guessed from my absence, but I've not been doing so well recently.It’s funny isn't it, ones head. It seems to take very little to completely knock me off course.

So, what’s happened? Well, as you know (because I didn't shut up about it beforehand) I went on holiday over the summer and it was wonderful! Taking the wheelchair was by far the best decision we could have made. I got to do so much! But unfortunately we had an incident 4 days before the end and I think that is where this funk originated from (though not wholly, but it must have been the trigger). Long story short my luggage got lost for a day. We’d just spent about 3 hours on a bus and I was feeling pretty rotten anyway and we needed to go and spend about 2 hours on a ferry after that, so I didn't exactly have any reserve spoons in my arsenal. Luckily the luggage did get returned to me but it meant a 4 hour delay in a busy and hot city of Split. I know to most people this wouldn't really be a problem. Go shopping, go for a wander etc, but this totally knocked me for six. I had no energy for shopping and my mind was consumed with the panic of losing something and the horror of having to drag myself around a shopping center to replace everything. It kind of spoilt the rest of the holiday to be honest. I was anxious and didn't sleep properly and I was in too much pain to really appreciate things.

I thought that would be that, get home from holiday and push on. But ever since I've been back I've been in a slump.

I let it go for a while, I wasn't massively down or depressed. I was still taking enjoyment out of life and friends, I wasn't crying all the time. I thought I was coping.

Then I went to see my therapist.

I should have known it was coming. All the signs were there. I wasn't crying all the time but I was totally and utterly flat. I wasn't really cooking, or writing, or baking. I wasn't bothered about seeing my friends, or ‘doing’. I just was.  There were definitely other contributing factors to this slump. My car finally died, so I am definitely feeling a bit stranded in general, and I had that awful assessment for the rehab clinic. I also had my assessment for PIP in September, which was definitely making me nervous and I just attributed my flat mood to all of these things along with the change of season.

But then I heard from the rehab clinic. I couldn't quite believe it but they are actually giving me a shot! In fact, I think they are doing the most sensible thing possible and I am going in for only one week as an assessment/test. We will see how I cope with the timetable and hospital setting etc, before possibly going on to do a full three week course in the future. I really couldn't have asked for more. They are also putting me in the (only) two bed ward, so hopefully that will be easier than having to sleep with 7 other people in the room. I couldn't have really asked for more. The assessment was a horrible experience, but at least they haven’t just totally written me off/rejected me.

And then a few weeks later I heard the decision on PIP. It was (and I still can’t quite believe it) good news! I actually had a really positive experience in my Atos assessment (SHOCK SHOCK HORROR HORROR) and I've been awarded PIP with no appeal, which I thought that was almost unheard of for an invisible and variable condition. Now I've got it I can get a new car, and I've hired a cleaner and even bought a hoover!

But even though the things that I thought were contributing to the feeling were getting sorted, I was still feeling flat.

So, back to my therapist’s office. Have you guessed that I had a total meltdown?

I love my therapist, he asked me what my instinct was and my answer was to run away. Oh god how I wish I could just hop on a plane and fly somewhere hot and go and run away from everything. And his advice? Do it! But on a smaller scale to my grand ideas of leaving everything behind, and so two weeks ago I ran away for 3 days to a health retreat in Surrey. I had three days of absolute peace, I didn't have to think about anything. All meals were provided, I swam, I steamed and saunaed (totally a word) and had various treatments. I definitely got head space. And now I’m back.

If i’m honest, it didn't really do what I wanted it to. It was amazing and my skin is better for the facial and my body is better from the massage and exercise I got, but my head still doesn't feel screwed on right.

I've been massively anxious recently, having panic attacks much more often than normal and over very little. But I have got more things sorted. I have got a new car through the Motability scheme which will arrive in December, and I've been trying to keep on top of things like paperwork. I've got a cleaner to help with the house, and I even went out last weekend without Mr SF and with my wheelchair, and my friends were (of course) just amazing about it.

That’s about it really. I do feel better than when I had a meltdown in the therapist’s office, but I’m definitely still not right. So please, bear with me whilst I struggle a bit, I just need to find my mojo.

Paranoia, steak and limitations

I love this quote by Joseph Heller from Catch 22

I’ve had such a lovely weekend. The weather has been fabulous so I’ve spent much of it just lying on a beanbag in my patio soaking in the sun. I’m low on vitamin D so it’s basically therapy! Anyway, as well as that I went to my friend’s house party on Friday night. It was a group of people the majority of whom I had never met before and as Mr SF was away for the weekend leading a Duke of Edinburgh expedition I was going stag. But I was really determined to get there, I hadn’t seen my friend in months and most of her friends that I have met before have been lovely. So during the week I let her know that I’ve been having some issues with anxiety recently, we arranged for me to go a bit early to meet her house mates and settle in before the crowds arrived. I did, and I’m so pleased. I had a lovely evening, got on really well with everyone I met and even ended up being pretty much the last to leave. Her house mates all insisted I must come back and hang with them again. Fab. And yet, I have spent much of Saturday and Sunday worrying about things that I said. Did I talk too much about being ill? Did I make a fool of myself? I don’t have a bad memory when it comes to drinking so I actually remember the evening pretty clearly and I’m pretty sure I didn’t, but if I did embarrass myself somewhat...so what? What’s the worst that could have happened? I didn’t get asked to leave the party, in fact I was invited back and I was polite and sent a thank you text afterwards. So really, I’m obsessing over nothing! And I do this all the time! It’s so ridiculous I’m practically laughing at myself as I type this post. It feels like this is a very mild form of paranoia, and I often doubt myself that I have behaved ‘normally’, particularly around new people. But is this kind of paranoia actually just anxiety in reverse? Instead of worrying about what might happen, I worry about what has happened. I should point out this isn’t something that happens with my close friends, with them I know that I’ve got a relationship where I could just ask them outright and they’ll be perfectly honest with me (and most of the time laugh at my ridiculousness with me!)

Anyway, despite this worry I have had a wonderful weekend. On Saturday I actually made it out the house to have a wander through Kemptown Carnival despite not getting home until a ridiculous hour after sunrise and I had an amazing steak sandwich from the Beach BBQ people. They cook a whole joint sous vide (meaning under pressure), the meat is vacuum packed and cooked in a temperature controlled water bath at 52 and a half degrees overnight, which ensures a perfect medium rare joint that is meltingly tender. They char-grill the outside, slice it, char it on a grill a second time and serve it in a soft bun with horseradish and mushroom ketchup, parsley porridge and rocket. I’ve got to say, it was delicious! At first I thought the portion size of meat was a little meagre, but I am more than happy to say I was oh so wrong on that front. I’m afraid I didn’t get a photograph because my brain wasn’t working nearly well enough to think about something as sensible as that, but head on over to their twitter feed/website and you’ll see plenty. The flavours all came through just enough to complement the meat and not overpower it (easily done with strong flavours like horseradish). At £7 it wasn’t exactly a cheap eat and is at the very top end of what I deem to be acceptable for street food (I appreciate it does seem like a lot for what is essentially a sandwich) but when you bite into the meat you don’t regret the spending one bit. Plus they are really friendly and will happily give you a free taster of the meat to entice you in. A definite must-try for any steak fan.

Sunday saw more sunbathing and the return of Mr Spoonie Foodie sun burnt, tired and in need of cuddles. I definitely wasn’t complaining.

I didn’t make it up to London last week...I know that a huge part of this is a mental block, but I’m genuinely worried about the physical side of it too. There is a fair bit of walking involved in just getting around the stations and then I’ve got to be compos mentis enough to spend some quality time with my Grandmother. She’s out of HDU now and is meant to be heading home this week, but I know that time is running out. I definitely don’t have the energy to drive myself to North London and I’m not sure that my rickety old banger would actually get there in one piece! I know I have to get there...I just don’t quite know how I’m going to do it. I’ve got my first physiotherapy session on Thursday, hopefully an exercise program can help me gain some strength back and then the physical side of the journey won’t be quite so daunting. There are times where I’ve considered some kind of mobility aid, be it a wheel chair or...well who knows what, but I’m definitely not ready for that. It’s somewhat ironic because a wheelchair would enable Mr SF and me to do so much more stuff together, but I think we both just see the 'disabled-ness' of it (is that irony? I think it is, but I'm never quite sure!) I guess we both like hiding behind the fact that I don’t look any different, it means we don’t have to deal with a lot of the stigma attached to disability.

I think I’m finally going to make the official announcement on Charley’s Little Kitchen website that I am unable to run classes at the moment. I’ve put off doing this for quite a while, but I think it is time. Setting up a business has been an amazing experience. I’ve been able to combine two of my passions in life - cooking and working with children, whilst doing something that I fundamentally believe is essential to the future health of society. Not only that, but I actually made something of a success of it. We have kids that ask their parents to come back to our holiday clubs and parents that have sent the most wonderful feedback. I’ve also got to meet my helper Vicky who is now a true friend and I’ve been able to run stands at the children’s food festival for the last 3 festivals. I’m not giving up on Charley’s Little Kitchen and we are booked to return to the children’s food festival in September, but at the moment I know I don’t have the emotional or physical strength to be running events. As anybody who works with children will know, it is a physically demanding job. I was running workshops from 10 until 3 during the school holidays and even when I was doing ok physically, it would exhaust me for days afterwards. I was also finding the workshops more and more stressful. Although I always felt amazingly proud of myself once the workshops were over, I was putting myself under more and more emotional pressure in the run up to them and this inevitably triggered more physical pain. Obviously I can’t continue to do this to myself when my physical condition has worsened. I have to learn to accept my limitations, one day I’ll work it all out.

There’s a quote by Gunther Von Hagens (he's the guy who preserves bodies in tact and shows them without their skin etc) that I think I’ll leave you with. It really speaks to me...

Comfort Zones

Mental illness sucks. It eats away at you without you realising. It takes away your desire to push yourself and makes you want to stay within your safe little cocoon you have unknowingly created. And it seems unbelievable that this can happen without your knowledge, but you make excuses for not going out or seeing someone, you tell yourself it’s ok this time. And maybe that time it is ok, because you are in pain or have a fever. But it’s not ok when you haven’t left your house for a week. And it’s not ok that you get anxious before answering the phone. And it is not ok that I couldn’t get on the train to go to London today.

My grandmother is sick. She has cancer, of multiple organs. Then her hip broke when she was walking around her flat and she had a heart attack whilst having the operation to fix it. So all in all, she’s pretty fucking sick. And all I had to do was get from my house to the station, get on a train and see her in hospital. It also happened to be my mum’s birthday today and it just seemed an appropriate time. But I couldn’t. I don’t know why, but I couldn’t even leave my house. I didn’t feel that physically unwell today, but once I got out the shower I suddenly felt really exhausted, which then sparked off the thought that what on earth would I do if I felt like that in the middle of Victoria Station? What if I fainted? Or had a panic attack? What if there was nowhere to sit? What if I couldn’t get myself around? Or if I struggled with the stairs*? I’m terrified of the idea of being stranded. And then the whole idea of London was just too much. I often find it quite difficult being in crowded and noisy places, I find it quite tiring just trying to focus on my task and blocking out the visual and audio stimuli. So I didn’t go. And on one level I don’t feel that bad about it and I tell myself it is ok, but it feels like somewhere deep inside of me that old ‘me’ is screaming that THIS IS NOT OK!

My doctor says that this is the sort of thing that the rehabilitation clinic can really help me with. This is a three week residential pain management program where you work with an interdisciplinary team of physio-, occupational, phsycho- and many more types of therapists to improve the quality of your life. However, unsurprisingly there is a high demand and low availability for this service on the NHS and I have been parked on a stationary waiting list since August. I only recently found out that the waiting has actually been closed since I was put on it as it was longer than the 25 week maximum. So I’m in limbo.

I feel ok. That is, I feel absolutely fine so long as I don’t think about ‘things’. You know... life... money...career... those kind of minor things. And so long as I don’t try and do anything that is too far outside my comfort zone, like get a train to London. Both my doctor and my therapist say that’s not so ok, but I think that it’s so much better than when I was just crying all the time we’ve got to take our victories where we can! I’ve been having a really nice week or so. I’ve seen Mr SF and had a couple of friends over for afternoons/evenings of chatting, cooking and eating (and sometimes watching giant panda cam!)Today I have FINALLY updated the blog (and in case you wonder why I've posted twice in one day, I've had a few posts half finished including the lemon cake for the past week or so, but have been distracted by various things. So expect a few more in quick succession if things go as planned) I guess I don’t think it is such a bad thing to live within my comfort zone, but I do think it’s pretty shitty I didn’t make it up to London today. I’m hoping to get there tomorrow because I want to see my Grandma and I’ve made a little something for my mother’s birthday.

As she hasn’t yet received it I don’t want to give it away, but I’ll give you a component and a little recipe.

Salted Caramel Sauce

I cannot get enough of this stuff. The sticky sweetness contrasts so beautifully with the flakes of sea salt. I could eat it with a spoon from the jar...it may have occurred once or twice before... Also I tried to take a photograph of the process and managed to burn my caramel - don’t take your eye of it for a second!

200g sugar

90g unsalted butter** cut into pieces

120ml double cream

1 – 2 teaspoons Maldon sea salt or fleur de sel

Place the sugar in the heavy based saucepan. On a medium heat, stir the sugar until it has melted. Once it has melted take off the heat and stir in the butter until it all melted and fully combined. You might have to stir quite vigorously.

Put it back on a low heat and very slowly, whilst stirring, pour in the cream in a continuous stream until it is all combined. Be careful as the temperature difference between the cream and the caramel will cause it to bubble up and possibly splutter.

Allow to bubble for about a minute before taking off the heat. Stir in ½ a teaspoon of salt and allow to cool slightly. Once somewhat cooler, taste and adjust the salt to as you prefer.

*Mr Spoonie Foodie and I have a great technique to tackle stairs when we are together, particularly the ones coming up from Brighton beach. He goes behind me and lifts/pushes me up from my bum whilst I just move my legs! Still painful but much less effort and it really does work surprisingly well.

** I’ve always been told that salt can hide the taste or poor quality butter, also by using unsalted you can adjust the salt content to your preference.