Life is an anagram of file

Everyone of us is born like an empty file, which over our lifetime is filled with different words, pictures and sounds that are unique to us.
There are special moments we save to our file to remember them again years later, but also those we forgot to press save on now gone. Equally, there are those we wish we could delete as bring us pain when we see them, as well as those in haste we erased with anger or in tears.
Life is full of repeats. Copied and pasted throughout the file, perhaps they are lessons we are meant to learn from. Cutting toxic people is a must for our sanities, as act like a virus on our file, but it is not always easy as a click of a mouse to remove them permanently.
Sometimes it feels like it be good if we could star a new file, but this is impossible. Stop to think of all that be lost if succeeded in aborting. Remember even if the file gets corrupted and refuses to not open, it is not necessarily the end. There is support out there that can help us.
Arial 11 in black maybe default, standard or “normal”, but there is no such thing as a standard human being. So explore the fonts, sizes and colours till find one that is us. Sometimes adding italics, bolding or underlining works, but it’s not for everyone. Find and create our normal.
As a new year approaches, a time of resolutions and possible change. Think of it like a new page on the file, how we fill it is up to us,
© Fi S. J. Brown
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A child’s question – mental health

Yesterday I was asked: how do you explain mental health to a child? The child in question being 4 years old. Although I will never have my own children, it is an important to realise with an increase in mental health that we consider it from a child’s point of view and not ignore their questions. So, I felt it was an important point to ponder. N.B. I am not a trained counsellor but considering a basic course in 2016 as many have said I should be one, but use my own experiences to offer support and advice to friends.

Immediately I remembered my step-mum after my breakdown and suicidal thoughts said I could not stay with her, my dad and step-sister as was not fair on my step-sister as she was too young (I was almost thirty where as she was twelve). My own parents split up when I was eleven, so thought when I was her age I had already gone through a major traumatic experience. Equally, she was of the age when lots of changes would be occurring and have questions about life. Was she really too young to understand why I felt the way I did or was this the stigma of mental health kicking me at my lowest ebb?

My step-mum also would never let me explain fully why I was depressed to her and events had become the way they are. I was having therapy at the time so I could understand my past and how I got to where I was today. So what I had learnt from therapy, I could never put into practise, for as soon as my mum’s name was mentioned, she’d go deaf; my mum had painted her (wrongly) as a scarlet woman thus could not hear a bad word about her. It was incidents like that every time I saw her that lead to my re-estrangement with my father, as she would corner me to ask me again and again, but not give her the answers she felt I should be saying. How could I explain when what needed said was not being heard?

My family never talk about things, so all sorts that hurt me from physically to emotionally and mentally can still trigger or impact upon me decades later as cannot always move on from them. Only the other week I had a panic attack at the dentist, partly through a fear I was choking as I nearly blacked out and my fear of people coming in my face after things my brother did to me thirty years ago, which my parents never punished. I once nearly punched an optician as he came close to my face when helping me try contact lenses and my head kept thinking he was going to strangle me like my brother kept trying to do. I would never knowingly hurt anyone, so both incidents left me crying and shaking at being a fool to let the past strangle my present and possible future. However, it also tells me that I also need further therapy to move on from them.

Going back to the original question I was asked. I feel honesty is the best policy, especially with children, but just how do you tell a small child about something many adults do not understand or accept? The friend told me the child already knew they cried, got angry and took medication, but as children often do, wanted to know more. It made me consider both my nieces, one almost 4 and the other almost 5, how would I explain how Auntie Fi’s health? The eldest already asked why on why I did not do certain things. I also felt that children need reassurance and that it is not them, but their parents still love them and always will.

I thought back to my own childhood, how I used the Care Bears to show how I felt. When I was seven, my tummy felt like Grumpy Bear with a cloud on it with the drops feeling like the tears I had in my tummy. He was the only Care Bear I was never allowed to own, as my mum found his image too depressing! Ironic given it was me trying to tell her I was depressed from events at home and the bullying at school.

I looked up an image of Grumpy Bear on the internet, and immediately hit upon an idea. The friend could colour in with and/or supporting their child the image of the bear, describing how sometimes they felt like the bear, the raindrops were like the tears he cried and medication the hearts that stopped the raindrops falling as much, which together with their loved made more hearts form. My friend felt this was a good idea, but reminded them they knew their child in terms of development and sensitivity required.

Discussing mental health is not easy, whether it is with a child, teenager or adult. However, it is by discussing what it means to us and impacts our lives with family, friends and colleagues that will end this terrible stigma, which I believe should have been left in the 20th century. In many ways discussing mental health is like discussing having cancer, diagnosis under either umbrella term can change lives forever but they do not have to mean the end. We all feel like Grumpy Bear some days, needing the love of others to be the hearts when sometimes we forget to love ourselves and know it is okay to cry like the raindrops, as the sunshine after the rain is almost worth dancing in the street!

© Fi S. J. Brown

Festive Ponders 2015

It is almost the shortest day of the year, which means the final countdown of the festive season will truly begin. A time for excess, but let’s make it of love, compassion and empathy, not envy, jealousy, or the largest turkey to diamond ring we can afford. Remember, it is not the size of the gift or price tag, but the thought another human being thinking of us that does. They took time out of their day to do so, even if we don’t like it.
 
It is also the time when we reflect on the year now almost over, resolving to make the next better than this. Instead of resolving to change habits that we will break as soon as the 1am bells ring, why do we not consider being ourselves 24/7. Be true to who we are and what matters to us, nobody has the right to tell us it is not normal or wrong as it is what is what and how life’s colours paint our story and no two are ever truly a like.
 
Also, be gentle with ourselves when things don’t go as planned, that way when success comes it can be like enjoying the view from a mountain seeing all we overcame to get there. Do not feel guilty at that piece of chocolate or extra mince pie, as we all deserve a treat for surviving those dark and hard times. However, using alcohol to drunks to cover those times do not work, like a band aid on a gaping, the pain will always seep through.
 
Nobody is truly ever alone, we all have someone somewhere that we matter to even in thought and spirit. It may not be a happy season for all but send hope. To those we call family or close friend, keep them close in heart not just at Christmas but every day by letting our thoughts and actions show how much they mean to us. To those we may only speak to via Facebook or Christmas card, are symbols of our life’s journey from past to present, giving it shape.
 
To those that follow my blog I appreciate you doing so as you follow my journey and do not judge it, accepting my quirks and idiosyncratic ponders, as paint the world as it is through my experiences and points of view. To those these are the first words of mine you have read, thank you for taking time to read. Now take all these words as my gift to you all, wishing good health (mental and physical), love, light and peace today and everyday.
 
© Fi S. J. Brown

To be human

Question, what one universal thing connects us all? Answer, being human.
 
We may look different due to gender, genetics, and/or race, but those are part of our outer shell and we share a heart that beats to give us life. We also have differences in ability, beliefs, sexuality and personality, but do they really make a difference in making someone human?
 
Equally, what is normal? Normal is how life is for us, one person’s normal may be different to ours but does not make them abnormal or a freak. Do our similarities not make us connect but these differences teach us a different way of living life, which is no more right or wrong than the way we choose to live it.
 
Today is world human rights day, a chance not to dwell on the negatives of life but be grateful for what we have and the freedoms some of us enjoy that others cannot. All to often we want more and more yet forget how lucky we actually are and what rights we have.
 
So many for example in the UK to the US taking being able to read and write as such a given thing, we learn them us small children and skills for life. However, being born in a different culture if female may never have the chance to learn these skills. Belief and faith are personal things, if someone wants to follow Christianity, Scientology, Atheism to Pastafarianism, let them. Also disabilities, not every one can be seen outwardly, but inwardly can be a struggle just to get through the day without pain and tears.
 
Recycle jealousy, greed and anger into empathy, understanding and love. Be a candle of light and hope to others not judge and jury. The world is full of critics, so be an encourager and supporter. Also, be ourselves not an imitation of someone else or hide are true selves as scared how others will react, that’s their problem not ours. Finally, embrace what makes us unique, it would be a very boring place if we are all the same!
© Fi S. J. Brown

Santaphobos

We have now entered the time of year that a dangerous and highly contagious disease is at its peak for symptoms. The disease is called “Santaphobos“, although not fatal in itself, the disease does get progressively worse every December.

The origins of Santaphobos are uncertain, however recent research has shown overexposure to children to under the age of ten to an older obese gentleman with a white beard, dressing in red and white, chanting “ho, ho, ho” and goes by the name of Santa Claus as a key factor.

Those that sat on the knee of someone matching the above description often cried at the time but their tears were ignored as he is meant to be a sign on good. Also this gentleman would ask them questions such as what they wanted for Christmas that they did not want to answer as for the rest of the year their parents told them never to talk to strangers!

To ensure the children behaved they are also told this person will come down their chimney if they are good and deliver them gifts with his reindeer friends on December the 25th. Unfortunately, it is the lies the parents tell repeatedly at this time in his name that may result later in “Grumpy Teenager Syndrome” as the child no longer believe what they’re told by the parents.

Symptoms vary with every individual as each case is unique. However, tell tale signs may include:

  • Mentioning the word “Christmas” results in the response “bah humbug”;
  • The sound of crackers and/or party poppers makes them pop a blood vessel;
  • The idea of eating turkey makes them clench their stomach and feel sick;
  • Constantly changing the radio to avoid Christmas carols and Cliff Richard;
  • The idea of an office party makes them flashback to drinking, dancing and vomit;
  • If male, shaving their movember beard as don’t want to be mistaken for him.

There is no known cure for Santaphobos but remember it is optional to join in Christmas, and nobody should feel they have to give cards or gifts to show how much they love someone as in our thoughts and actions all year. A gift of an hour with loved ones can mean far more than a bottle of wine or diamond ring. Even spending that hour with a friend or neighbour that has no one. Finally, remember it is not a jolly time for everyone, so be respectful to those with Santaphobos as with any other physical or mental disease.

© Fi S. J. Brown