Overcoming Mental Illness

When I get into a mixed episode and find all the synapsies and connections in my brain sizzling out and overworking into their friend up mix of mania and depression, one of the things I do is jump onto DeviantArt and have a scout around for some truly wonderful art. Sometimes it’s my old favourites, other times new, exciting and cute pieces which make me smile and giggle and feel joyous to be alive.

This morning, as the mixed episode continues, I found some work I wanted to share with you from an artist by the name of Malva Alcea so think of it what you will, I for one love it :)

See more of Malva Alcea’s art here…

So here we are, after nearly 6 months, over two hundred posts across three different web addresses, the end is here. So what better topic to write about than what is, in my opinion, the greatest treatment for depression. I should point out that all names in this post have been changed and may or may not reflect gender, aside from mine of course!)

For a moment I would like you imagine what it would be like to have no friends. Now I know there are people out there who already know what this feels like so I’m not trying to rub it in, but for those of you with friends, think for a moment about what life would be like without those special people in it.

Think about what it would be like to be completely by yourself.

No one to share smiles with.
No one to share laughs with.
No one to share happiness with.
No one to share drinks with.
No one to share moments with.
No on to share to share problems with.
No one to spend time with.

Are you imagining it yet? No? Try thinking about:

What it would be like to spend your birthday alone; no presents, no cards, no Happy Birthday.
What it would be like to spend Christmas alone; no presents, no cards, no Happy Christmas.
What it would be like to spend New Years alone; no drinks, no laughter, no midnight kisses.

Any closer?

Never any hugs.
Never any giggles.
Never any lunches.
Never any anything.

Just you
Yourself
Always
Alone

Living your life with no-one to share anything with. You get up for work alone and come home alone. You are excited and happy but have no-one to share it with. You receive bad news and have no one to talk to, no one to give you comforting hugs or words of advice or wisdom. You are by yourself, isolated and alone 100% of the time. Can you imagine that? Can you imagine what that might do to your mind? To spend day after week after month after year in complete isolated solitude? Well, let me tell you. It fucks you up.

Isolation. Loneliness. Solitude. Three of the most painful words in the human language. And to someone suffering from depression or another mental illness, they are potentially words which could be written on someone’s death certificate as cause of death.

Over the years I have tried everything I can think of to combat, control and overcome depression:

Alternative therapy
Chinese Remedies
Herbal remedies, such as St John’s Wort
Counseling and psychologists
Self Help books
Russian Therapy
‘Overcoming Depression’ workbooks and audio books
Relaxation therapy
Yoga and Alexander Technique
Massage
Meditation
Anti-Depressant medication
TV and movie therapy

None of them worked!

I have spent the majority of my life alone, in fact I can count on one hand the number of true friends I’ve had in my life.

When I was but a teenager I didn’t really have anyone to talk to. I knew people but I wouldn’t say I had many friends. Not friends I could talk to, not friends I could share my self-harm, depression and social anxiety with. Teenagers are some of the cruelest people in the world anyway, so the likelihood any would have understood any of these things was slim. Thus I was forced to fight all of these things alone, and through determination and at times painful agony, I was able to get the self harm under control. Nothing was working with the social anxiety and depression and I was falling ever further into the abyss.

Once I felt I had the self-harm under control I tried to find ways in which to combat the depression and social anxiety – and my option was to go backpacking. I had discovered hostels during my period as a runaway and wanted to travel Scotland, a country I could afford and loved passionately. The months I spent traveling the country is one of my fondest memories, but I would the evening sitting in the hostel lounge reading books or scribbling in my journal, too anxious to meet and talk to the people I was writing about, giving them obvious nicknames because I was too scared to even find out their names. The SSLWCB or the SFLWCB were, like most people in my life, untouchable and untalktoable – is that a word? When I arrived into Inverness I looked into getting a flat in the Castle Heather part of town where I could settle, find work, and live life alone. My self harm was kinda under control, despite some lapses in focus and frustration along the way, but I wasn’t really making any headway with the rest. So instead of moving into my own flat, I opted to stay at the hostel where I could try building my ability to talk to people alongside the SCLWCB. It kinda worked. Sure, things got heavy in the old mind from time to time, and it was here I began smoking full time as means to keep the self harm under control but the people I met during that period became the first “friends” I’d ever had, more than that, they became my family.

It felt good, but depression and social anxiety continued to infect my actions and I was unable to be – a continuing frustration in my life – the person I know deep down that I am. Episodes of deep depression struck, especially just before Christmas and in early February. A depression which lasted and threatened to debilitate back into self-harm but I kept on with the whole backpacking-to-combat-everything assault and traveled back and forth across Canada for three months. I caught up with a few people, the SCLWCB being one of them, and even met other people I for a while called a friend; Rachel being one of them, as well as another whom we shall but call the SALWCB.

Everyone I met during this time, especially three outstanding, could, given other circumstances, have become true friends. The SALWCB and I had an instant connection which has only been rivaled on two other occasions since, and the other faces of that era still burn bright in my memory.

This period helped me get my self harm under control to a point I wasn’t even committing it any more. Friendship.

Then along came Lucy, who without doubt was the first person who I can call whole heartedly a true friend. Not because others in my past weren’t true friends, but because she was the first person I ever told about my depression, suicide attempt and in a way, my social anxiety. Lucy would have such an impact on my life unrivalled by anyone else I’ve met. Our friendship grew as well as our relationship; I lost my virginity to her, she was my first proper kiss, she was my first everything really.

For the first time in my life I had someone in my life who I could talk to, share thoughts and feelings with, experience my life with. In the first twelve months of our relationship I learned more about life and who I was than I had through the six/seven years of pain, loneliness and frustration which had been my teenage years. Sure, talking to her was difficult, this was the social anxiety and I would often weave in and out of being able to communicate well and not knowing what to say but in a way Lucy understood and would support where needed or give a metaphorical slap on the ass if I needed a wee push.

Because of our friendship, our love was strong. My emigration to Australia was due to this relationship and I worked hard to continue battling my illnesses whilst setting myself up in a new country. Something not easy, let me tell you! As our relationship grew so did our trust, and as our trust grew, so did my confidence. I never told Lucy of my self harm though, still hesitant to the power of the stigma of mental illness. My last moment of self harm had come a month or so before I met Lucy, so after meeting her and through her friendship I had got it under control. The longer I went without self harm, the less I thought about it, and over time it never felt right to bring it up. If I had, it would have just got me thinking about it again, and that could have proved devastating to the progress I was making.

Throughout the six years I spent in Australia I never stopped trying to make new friends. I had dreamed of having close friends since I was a teenager, all of the stories I wrote were about friendship, and I craved it more than anything else on the planet. I never believed having friends would cure me completely, only I could do that, but having lived so long by myself, I was enjoying sharing my life with others.

With Lucy’s help, sometimes even unknown to her, I made huge leaps with both depression and social anxiety to the point that at times it wasn’t even an issue. I met new people and my new life was underway. Sure there were periods of depression and social anxiety, as mentioned here, but I was working my bloody arse off to overcome it all.

Four years after being in Australia I was actually starting to make new friends, and as time slid on I made three of the best friends I’d ever had (Lucy aside); Grace, Tara and Kathy. With them came a potential new social network which I was slowly starting to matriculate myself into. Unfortunately, at the time, things between Lucy and I were strained which – if you’ve all been keeping up – was around the time when everything fell apart and of my second suicide attempt in March 2006.

(It was friendship that saved me. As I explained here, a singular text message reminded me of people who may miss me.)

The collapse of Lucy and I’s relationship and friendship was painful, but after months working hard to rebuild what we’d once had we knew that it was over. There was nothing we hadn’t tried. I blame myself for the breakup of our connection and knew in my heart that it was my depression, which had been severe throughout this year, which had made it so difficult to reconnect. I’ve never blamed Lucy for anything. I’m not afraid of admitting to my mistakes; my depression, self harm and social anxiety cost me the greatest friend I ever had. I think of her often and hope she is happy now, something I was never able to bring to her.

(The last time I thought of Lucy in depth was in fact last night. Whilst taking a stroll along the River Ness, through the islands where we shared so many walks, moments and memories I witnessed something I knew she had always wanted to see. Otters ran through our relationship and I’d always hoped to see one in the wild with her, however it was never to be. As I stared out over the fast flowing river thinking off those days I glimpsed something which I first thought was a duck – but on closer viewed was an otter; in the very river we spent so much time walking along. It made me wish she was still in my life, as I desperately wanted to tell her of this moment. Something I know would have brought a smile to her wonderful face.)

As a result of losing this friendship I was determined, once and for all, to beat all that I’d been fighting. Things were tough though, with the relapse into self harm and my social anxiety taking a thrashing because of the collapse of this friendship.

Moving in with my new housemates I made every effort to be more social; attending parties, heading to pubs and clubs, chatting in the lounge – all things I would never normally have been able to do, and this helped so much in keeping myself under control and though I was still self harming out of addiction was finding it much easier coping with everything else. I was rarely out of contact with people, which was a whole new experience for me. I even organized my own party, for the first time ever! I was slowly but surely overcoming something I’d been fighting since my teens!

My friendship with Grace and Kathy, so often mentioned on this blog, were also strengthening and I was becoming much better at talking to them. Actually sharing information without an interrogation taking place, and this was such a lift for me. Just being able to spend time with people, having other souls to talk to and have fun with, was key.

Grace and Kathy, the slow building acquaintanceship with Sally, and my continuing connection with my housemates and Tara – in addition to the whole new network which was opening up through college and the people I was getting to know through all of the above is what helped me kick depression and social anxiety squarely in the ass! This is how I was able to overcome depression; this is how I was able to beat something I had spent years fighting.

All those smiles, hugs, laughter, tears, times, moments, quizzes, conversations and so so much more is what finally helped me overcome everything. I wasn’t alone, I had people in my life, the solitude and loneliness I knew so intimately was no longer an issue. When I needed to talk there were people there, when they needed to talk, I was there, we hung out, laughed, smiled, had fun; and my confidence was increasing every single day.

Then came the earthquake of February 2007 and my life was never the same.

It was losing all those friendships which hit me the hardest, which made it so very difficult fighting the glandular fever, breakdown, depression and CLL. It was losing my new networks which fucked up the work I’d done with my social anxiety. It was the solitude, isolation and loneliness which I found myself drowning in once more that made everything so much harder to fight.

All those quizzes which I had to avoid, all those sing-a-longs I couldn’t partake in, all those conversations I now couldn’t have…the solitude consumed my mind, bringing back the hallucinations and self harm on a vicious level. It’s what solitude does, you need someone; so Meadhbh made her comeback and everything was lost. I couldn’t hold on or pretend I was sane any longer. Solitude, then loneliness then isolation. All that work for nothing. The abuse was the nail in the coffin.

All those smiles and laughs, drinks and lunches, parties and drunken nights – all of the times I shared – all of those friends and acquaintances. They inspired me. The strength they gave me from just touching and sharing their lives with me. They are what helped me to finally overcome my depression.

So many people take friendship for granted.

You have all your Facebook friends, your MySpace friends, your Bebo friends…you have all your uni, school and pub mates…if you lose one or two along the way it’s chalked up to just being life. Even if that person is someone with whom you have a huge connection with, few people work hard on friendships in today’s society. It’s kinda the same with relationships, if there’s a problem, chuck ‘em, plenty more fish in the sea. Maybe because I’ve experienced true isolation I have come to appreciate friendship, the joy of having someone in your life to share all those good times and bad times with, how important it is to have people there. I appreciate friendship with as much passion as I appreciate all that I have.

But as I’ve written in the past, depression also destroys friendships because of the burden – so I blame only myself for losing my friendships with those five true friends. If only depression wasn’t such a destructive force, if only it were understood as the illness that it is. If only people could have seen past the symptoms at who I am. If only, two of the most powerful words in the English language.

So, for the love of all things sacred, never forget what it means to have a friend. Just pick up the phone RIGHT NOW and call one of them for a chat, don’t take them for granted, don’t think they’ll always be there, because trust me – when they’re gone, you will miss them more than anything in the world!

Forget all your therapies; if you want to beat depression, you need to beat the isolation.

Friendship; the best cure for depression I know, and from personal experience, it works. If only a GP could prescribe it.

For Lucy, Grace, Kathy, Anna and Tara;
Thank you for all the good times,
I think of you all often and hope you’ve all found happiness.

When I get the time and frame of mind I love surfing around the wonderful blog community to see what other souls are writing about. Once I steer away from the “how to blog” blogs - exactly how many of these are there these days, aren’t we experiencing a little overkill? - I come across some wonderful wee communities, thoughts and lives which are delightful to dip into.

Seaneen, on the excellent Pole to Polar, wrote The Internet Told Me I Had Cancer. There are so many of these ’diagnose’ yourself tests on the internet these days, and going from this post, far more than I actually realised there were. Never having done any of them myself - I have enough wrong with me right now - I can’t vouch for their results.

Meanwhile, on the equally brilliant A Never Quiet Mind, Zathyn writes about Antidepressants and the Placebo Debate. With all the news lately about medication, prozac and it’s merits for those with depression the terms ‘mild’ and ’severe’ seem to have been lost in the mix. Having had virtually no sucess with any of the medication I have yet taken - especially it’s bipolar triggering effects within me - I am firmly under the belief that a placebo, for those with severe depression and mental illness is useless. But that’s just me, what do you think? He also mentions on his blog about the recent heat wave in Adelaide, which, given my love for that city and also Australia was plesantly nostalgic reading; though I’m glad I wasn’t actually there at the time! 

I also loved Pandora’s Boxes, a poem on Jane’s Writing, which is a blog I have only recently discovered and am relishing reading through all of her posts.

Then there’s the question how do I link to dozens of fantastic blog posts with only one link? Easy, by alerting you to the wonderful Carnival of MS Bloggers run through Brass and Ivory which this issue has some truly excellant articles for you to devour.

On a more lighthearted note, there is Simon’s Cat, which I came across on Youtube. So technically it’s not strictly a blog - but hey - it is definately worth checking out!

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And finally for this time, Scott Davis on Finding Your Marbles explores the benefits and practicalities of writing in How to Start a Healing Journal. Wonderful, practical advice for all.

Well, I hope you’ve found something new and interesting to peruse in your journey’s through life and cyberspace, no doubt I’ll be back at some point with more wonderful blog posts for you all.

Drumnadrochit, or Drum as it will hitherto be known, is a small township of only 600 (approx) lying midway up the North Side of Loch Ness. Which, unless you’ve been living in a remote cave somewhere in the Himalayan wilderness for the last century, is home to the ‘Monster’, or Nessie as she will hitherto be known.

There have been tales of strange sightings and occurrences at Loch Ness dating back to the time of St. Columba (the Irish monk who established the church upon Iona and whom attempted to convert the Highlands to the ways of Christianity. These sightings have varied from Sea Serpents and Sturgeons to the more mythical explanations; water kelpies and unknown monsters (i.e. Nessie)

It wasn’t until 1933 that Nessie sightings took off and began making a name of Loch Ness across the world. It was in this year that, following a somewhat biased article in the Inverness Courier (the local paper), Nessie sightings began to become regular occurrences.

Then, in April 1934, this picture appeared:

Without question the most famous photo of Nessie which has yet to hit the general population. Surely this shows the infamous Nessie in all her beautiful, somewhat blurred glory? Well…actually, what most people don’t know is that this photograph was released the press on April 1^st - All Fools Day! Yet for over half a century, until the late 1990s this photograph was widely heralded as the most concrete proof that something did indeed exist in this mighty loch.

Only it was then revealed it was a fake; it is in fact a toy submarine with a toy dinosaur stuck on top. Yet it was a photograph that captured the imagination of the world, kick started over half a century of research, ignited thousands of people into becoming amateur Nessie hunters, created a massive tourist boom around the loch and cemented the name Loch Ness into the annuls of history.

I will stress straight away that I am a believer. Colour me naïve, but I am positive there is something lurking in the murky waters of this loch.

If you haven’t been there, some basic facts:

• The loch is approx. 24 miles long.
• It is, in parts, over 750ft deep.
• The floor of the loch is as flat as a bowling green.
• There is more water in the loch than in all of the fresh water lakes in England and Wales combined.
• There is in fact 263 thousand million cubic feet of water in the Loch, that’s approximately 16 million 430 thousand gallons of water.
• It could hold the population of the world ten times over!

I will, however, stress almost as quickly that I am not saying it is a Pleiseosaur or other prehistoric creature. I said I believe there is something in the loch, which I’m sure there is. It might be a giant eel, a befuddled whale, a ravishingly beautiful naked mermaid or even a never-before-seen species of water based badger. It might be anything, because what it is isn’t important to me, what is important is that I believe something is there. And as Isobel says:

“No Mr Dempsey, you have to believe it before you can see it,”

I believe in Nessie, kelpies, dancing wee faeries and ever staring Gwyllions. I believe in bogles, brownies, wartless witches and ravishingly beautiful mermaids. We all need something to believe in, and the hidden magic of the world is what I believe in - well, that and the inherent goodness of humankind, but in today’s society this is getting harder to find than Nessie herself!

That’s just me.

However, until you have seen Loch Ness it is difficult to truly understand the scale of this body of water. This is no mere puddle or lake! It takes over an hour to travel from one end to the other, it’s over a mile at it’s widest point and there are so many geological and natural phenomena occurring in it’s waters all the time that it’s no wonder so many people have seen something.

In the short space of time I was there I saw three localized whirlpools created out of the weather and tidal conditions on and below the water’s surface. Otters and seals have been known to live in the water, and an explanation for many of the “horned head” sightings can be attributed to deer swimming across the loch.

[Click image for larger view]

It is hard to stand on the shore’s of the loch and not have a casual glance over the surface to see if you can spot Nessie. I do it every time I’m there, and this occasion was no different, I am yet to see anything which I can’t explain though. I believe in Nessie, yes, but I’m also willing (and able) to factor in those deer, whirlpools and water based badgers instead of allowing myself to believe anything my eyes throw up.

My excursion for the first day I was at the loch was a visit to the Loch Ness Monster Exhibitionin Drum. My last visit here was waaayyyyyyyy back in 1997 and my recollection of it was a half interesting/half annoying collection of monster sightings, brief history and recollections and an overwhelming sense of trying to convince you the monster was there. They have however spent a lotof money updating and transforming the exhibition in the 11 years since my last visit and I was surprised to find an exhibition which wasn’t in the “there definitely is a monster so go frack yourself” camp. Here is an exhibition which paints an honest portrait of not just the Nessie phenomenon but gives a stunning amount of information on the Loch and area itself. It’s history, nature, ecological function, challenging the visitor to think more about the loch as an environment rather than a habitat for a (potentially) long since extinct dinosaur. I can whole heartily recommend this exhibition to visitor’s, the cost of admission is well worth it, ad you can also skip through the fluffy Nessie kingdom of it’s shop at the end, if you so wish.

But who out there could pass up the chance of owning a pair of Nessie emblazoned knickers? Surely the ultimate in erotic apparel, no?

Meanwhile…

Whilst couples frolic in the Drumnadrochit hotel with their Nessie knickers in various states of dress, the mighty ruin of Castle Urquhart stands ever watchful over the deep waters.

My first visit to the castle was, again, in 1997 when I risked retribution and surreptitiously leapt over it’s walls after closing for a wee trespassing poke around. My second visit to the castle was in 2000, when I spent a couple of hours there with a lovely girl from the hostel I was staying at (a meeting which had occurred when I walked into her room whilst cleaning it and found her standing there half naked, and let’s be honest, perchancing to bump into gorgeous woman in their underwear is surely the point of becoming a hostel cleaner isn’t it?)

But, oh, how time’s have changed. You can now no longer risk a smacked bottom by illegally entering the castle as you’d break your neck with the drop they’ve created, and rather than walking around a few crumbling stones you can now learn all about the castle courtesy of their shiny new visitor centre.

Built in the 13th Century this castle has been pillaged, ransacked, destroyed, rebuilt, ransacked, pillaged, destroyed, rebuilt, ransacked, pillaged and destroyed more times than it’s conceivable to believe. In fact, pretty much every one who passed the castle during the 14th and 15th Centuries decided to attack the thing and try to seize it for their own! Perhaps they liked the view. But with everyone and their sheep attacking you is it any wonder the owners finally decided to blow the thing up themselves and move on to pastures new in 1692?

Many people pass their noses up at the chance of visiting this castle - why would I pay to wander around a few piles of bricks? They ask - well, as with the Nessie Exhibition above, I can whole heartily recommend shelling out those few pounds. The brand spanking new exhibition and visitor centre gives a complete history of the castle, and there is something very tranquil about wandering around the ruins of the castle. In fact, I would prefer to pay to walk around this form of castle rather than the complete examples - they’re just much more interesting, and oozing with delicious historical emotions.

And oh, all you Melbournians clinging to the strange fascination that you experience four seasons in one day (something I can’t adhere to having lived there for five years) in the two hours I was at the castle we had: blistering sunshine, a torrential thunderstorm, hail, more sunshine, gale force winds, more hail, a wee bit more rain then blistering sunshine again followed by a five minute snow fall!

“Rhum possesses a unique field mouse, Apodemus sylvaticus hamiltoni, which is said to live nowhere else. Could this perhaps be the “fairy mouse” of the Hebrides, which has strange and terrible powers? If a fairy mouse runs over the back of a man or beast, the creature so treated will become totally paralysed and never move again. There are cures, but they rarely work. Even the flick of the tail of a fairy mouse on and or foot may have dire consequences. Some have claimed that the fairy mouse is the lesser shrewmouse and that the greater shrewmouse, if sacrificed or even passed over the paralysed one, can remove the disabilities put on by it’s lesser brother. But no natural history book that I have consulted knows the lesser shrew under that name, nor the greater shrew either, just “shrewmouse.” However, water in which the head of a shrewmouse has been boiled will cure “bite of shrew,” and a shrewmouse can bite. It is bravest little creature imaginable. Hebridean mice were believed able to sing, but it was death to him who heard them. To find a dead mouse was also a death omen, but eating a roasted one will cure whooping cough and jaundice.”

Day #6 - Rhum and then an evening with Nevis

The first Scottish island I ever visited was Skye, although now it is connected to the mainland, is it still technically an island? Following this I jaunted to Orkney, then Mull, then the Western Isles; Lewis, Harris, North Uist, Berneray, South Uist, Benbecula. Iona was to follow next, and then repeated visits to Mull, Iona, Orkney, and - of course - my regular excursions to the Western Isles. It has long been a dream of mine to visit all of the islands that dot this coast - including St. Kilda, and island I would adore the chance of visiting. So it came with great joy and excitement that I am able to add another to this list, Rhum (or Rum, depending on which guidebook you read.)

Rhum is one of the four islands which are collectively known as the Small Isles, the other three being Muck, Canna and Eigg. They lie of the west coast, nestled in the Sea of the Hebrides between the Ardnamurchan Peninsula and the Isle of Skye.

The island is entirely a nature reserve owned by the SNH and is long considered to be the jewel of the Inner Hebrides - it’s peaks soar to over 750m and the entire island is noted for it’s effluence of wildlife. Wild goats, deer, manx shearwaters, golden and white tailed sea eagles and of course the humble Apodemus sylvaticus hamiltoni!

Even though I knew Rhum was considered to be a beautiful wee island it was not my choice of which of the small isles to visit. This would have been Eigg, but a combination of the ferry time-table and the utterly gorgeous weather I was treated to this day meant Rhum was the ultimate destination for the day.

In a way I am glad, as without doubt, it truly is one of the jewels. Granted I was only on land for about 2 hours (due to the strict timetable) my blink-and-you’ll-miss-it trip to the island was well worth it.

I dropped down from the ferry into the hamlet of Kinloch where stands the castle, most appropriately called Kinloch Castle (which was built by the Bullough family who owned the island between 1888 to 1957) and was in a state of repair during my visit. Following this I just started roaming this desolate, almost unpopulated island (at most times around 20 people), and found myself hugging the coast across moorland at first and then into a wooded area where birdsong filled my ears and I attempted to record the second of my video diaries. Perchance I disturbed a mouse’s nest as every video I recorded on this day was atrocious but one will be posted following this entry none the less!

Then, as I was recording I spied the ferry making its way down the bay and began a speedy return to the pier. As I did so my boot was swallowed by some odorous liquefied peat in one of the numerous bogs dotted around the woodland.

I did however make the ferry.

Even though I was on the island for a mere couple of hours part of the fun with island hopping in Scotland is the journey. There is something almightily joyous about ferry travel and it easily surpasses the pleasure of flying (is there any?) and almost touches on train travel as the greatest way of seeing the world. Not only do you get a sense of scale, unlike planes, but for seeing the dramatic and varied coastlines of this country there is nothing better. The weather, being as spectacular as it was, threw up the veritable vista of; the Morar hills, Southern Skye, the greatest view of the Cuillans I’ve seen and then the indominatable body of Eigg with it’s distinctive basalt peak the ‘Sgurr of Eigg’.

CalMac ferries have always been a pleasurable experience for me; from the mini-cruise I took to Mull in January 2000 to the bordering on erotic experiences between Mallaig - Armadale, and later journeys to the Hebrides. It was, after all, a CalMac vessel which ferried me to the point where I would lose my virginity. As such, the initial stepping onto the boat was, dare I say it, orgasmic?

Even though my day had begun incredibly early in order to journey the Road to the Isles to Mallaig by train, it did not end early, for when I returned to Fort William that evening I took in the second ‘bout of enjoying the Festival festivities. The previous night I had enjoyed the Film Festival evening, this night, was the Nevis Connections evening.

The theme was ‘Nevis’ - i.e. the mountain, the glen and the area. A celebration of all things Nevis. There was music, readings, short films, discussion and a debate on the issues affecting the area and the possible directions which the region could be going in. Music was provided first by the ‘Lochaber Community Wind Band’, and was a rousing (at one point almost tear inducing) movement celebrating the ravishing beauty of Scotland. Secondly, there was the delightful music from ‘Flutes in the Fort’, a small group of flautists beguiling us with their trade. This was set to video footage, although my seat obscured the majority of this - instead allowing me only to see the posterior of one of the players, which in itself wasn’t such a bad thing!

The leader of the debate, Cameron McNeish, is unequivocally the 2^nd most contagiously passionate person I’ve ever met; his adoration for the area and the outdoors made me want to run naked through the hills! I didn’t, but there is still time!

If you would like more information on the Nevis area, or perchance become a Friend of Nevis, you can visit their website at www.friendsofnevis.co.uk

And to close, a small poem from Kenneth MacLeod which I unearthed during my research on Rhum:

The grail of the dream land, the youth land, is love lit,
Beside the hill water a foam to sea,
Like tangle at noontide, like snow-wreath in moon-light,
And thou who art yearning, shall yearn them to be
O Bride! ‘tis seaward, the dream land, the youth land
O Bride! And seaward the coolin of Rum

When I last left you it was Sunday, and I was experiencing a rather nasty reaction to the Prozac I was prescribed. It messed me up as Sunday was meant to be Glen Nevis/Cow Hill hike day - instead it was “lying on my ass and throwing up whilst wondering which of the wonderful side effects I was to experience next” day! I did however attempt to salvage something from the bowels of medicinal hell and dropped by the Fort William Mountain Festival: Art and Photography Exhibition which was somewhat spiffing I have to say.

There was a plethora of immensely talented work on display. Numerous drawings and collages from school children which - it has to be said, took my breath away - as well as paintings, photography and mixed media from local established and non-established artists. Such as:

  
(CLICK IMAGE FOR LARGER VIEW)

As the festival bumph states “From slacklining to biking and from Ben Nevis to Everest - the 2008 Mountain Festival is bursting at the seams with inspiring events guaranteed to get you in the mountain mood!” It’s a 100% bursting at the seams celebration of all things mountains! From hiking, climbing and biking to flowers, prehistoric organisms and, of course, the humble goat.

But we’ll have more of these festivities later, first up, we will resume to manic adventures of Addy (not quite in full on manic mode, has to be said, but the Prozac certainly wasn’t helping keeping the Hyde at bay!)

Day #5 - Glencoe and Table Mountains.

When I began this whistle-stop tour of Scotland I knew the places I was going to be visiting would fall into one of three categories:

• Those wonderful brand spanking new spots I had always dreamed of visiting.
• Those wonderful [no-where near brand spanking new] nostalgic paths of old which I have worn out over many years of traversing.
• Those not-so-wonderful [and in no way brand spanking new] places of old I had once upon a time arrived and - as departing - stated “never again”

This particular day falls into the category of numero (ii).

Glencoe is one of the most intensely beautiful places in Scotland. Much like a mug of steaming hot chocolate which is over-flowing with dark chocolatey goodness - this region of Scotland is jam packed with history, wildlife, flora, fauna and an overwhelming sense of how miniature, pointless and insignificant we are in the grander schemes of the world.

My first visit to Glencoe came in September 1999 when I undertook my grand backpacking tour of this bonnie country and I have returned there on numerous occasions since. Upon this first occasion I became lost in the woods surrounding the river and took rather a lengthy sojourn in finding my way back to the village and bus-stop. I’ve traveled the glen by car, train and tour bus. Hiked the hills and forests and generally had a romping good time in this fau-chocolatey wonderland.

On this occasion I traveled to Glencoe in the weirdest bus I have ever seen. Granted, and rather unfortunately, it was not weird in the way Miyazaki’s Cat Bus is weird - but weird in the sense that unlike any bus I’d been on before (wherein the make up is:

[seat] [seat] {n i c e a i s l e} [seat] [seat]

The layout of this particular vehicle was:

[sea[seta]t] {redicuslouslytinyaisle} [se[astea]ts[eat]

To get across how tiny the aisle was think of a general school ruler, which is 30cm in length. This WOULD NOT fit in this aisle, in any way you could try and put it there! I tripped over three people, smacked a nice old lady in the head with a flailing arm as I did, and then, as a struggled to (a) climb over the seats and (b) retain balance - my head very nearly ended up in the crotch of a rather sprightly looking twenty-something woman. Which, from my viewpoint would be no bad thing - but from her viewpoint, having a strange man’s head delving into her nether regions on a public bus might not be her idea of a good time. I stress might not be as - really - everyone’s different and it’s all “each to their own” as in actual fact it might have made her year! We shall never know, as I retained balance and threw myself into the world’s most uncomfortable bus seat.

If anyone has ever traveled the A82 from Fort Willy to Glencoe I’d be willing to put money on the fact that the scenery is embedded in the core of your mind; it is unflinchingly one of the most beautiful stretches of road in this country. The views over Loch Linnhe toward Ardnamurchan are word defying, and as you cross the Ballachulish bridge you receive stunning panoramas over the North of Argyll toward the Pap of Glencoe, and the mountains beyond.

I departed at Glencoe Village and promptly began hiking up the glen. I paused for several moments at the visitor centre, reacquainting myself with the area before continuing further up the glen. I couldn’t say how far I walked, nor how many sheep I spotted, nor how many times I gasped in utter amazement that there is no-where quite like this on the planet.

A brief historical sojourn:

Glencoe is the scene of one of the bloodiest most upsetting moments in Scottish history. For it was in 1691 when the infamous “Glencoe Massacre” took place” Disgruntled with all the rebellions and conflicts William II issues a decree that any Highland clan would be given a pardon should they sign the treaty. The MacDonald clan leader, much like myself, was rather a slack fellow and left it until the last minute for the lengthy ride to Fort William to sign the treaty - which he did sign, albeit several days late of the deadline. Jumping on the chance an issue was ordered, and the Campbells (aligned with William) were sent to the Glen and enjoyed the Highland Hospitality offered to them by the Campbells. The Campbells stayed with the MacDonalds for ten days; sleeping in their homes, eating and drinking their food, having their way with the bountiful lasses (no doubt) and then one black morning the command as given and the Campbells duly began slaughtering every MacDonald under the age of 70; men, women and children. It was supposed to show what would happen should a clan stand against the wishes of William II. Many of the MacDonald’s did escape into the hills, but being a bleak and unforgiving place were killed by the elements…and for a far more in-depth retelling of the Glencoe Massacre try the book “Glencoe” by John Prebble, which is an excellent account.

As with Glenfinnan before it I spent the day hiking in the hills before returning to Glencoe village for a spectacular view out west as the sun was setting.

Upon returning to Fort William I dashed back to my abode, changed, made myself smell of honey (or at least better than how I smelt after a day’s hiking in the hills) threw up (because of the Prozac) and then had to remove the odor of vomit from my person before heading to the Nevis Centre (the entertainment hub of this fair town) for an evening of film as part of the festival.

There were short films, longer films, a couple of crap ones and a couple of spectacular ones. Stand outs for me were; 65 Degrees North in which a bunch of intrepid skiers headed to Greenland to be the first to descend some previously undescended peaks and the magical Puento; a one hour documentary dealing with exploring the table mountains and their caves in the Venezuelan rainforests. (This film, should you be given the chance, should not be passed up. It not only made me want to become a spelunker, but also elevated my desire to visit South America even more than it already was (and as South America is second on my list of not-visited-countries which I want to go to) this desire was already pretty fracking high.

Anyway, after a long day, I returned home and still somewhat queasy, clambered into bed. I was to be up early the next day as for the first time in seven years I was to become a sailor, which unfortunately did not include a cute little uniform, but I was island bound!

—1—
Strip naked (yep, get it ALL off!)
Go stand in front of a full length mirror.
Now, instead of focusing on all those moles, hair patches and love handles…
…concentrate on all the drop dead gorgeous things about yourself.
Yep, it’s bloody hard, but you can do it!
Try three things to start with.
Say them out loud to yourself - and mean it! Things like:
“Addy - my god - you have the cutest smile you’ve ever seen!”
“Look at those nipples, they’re damned awesome, how could anyone not like those?”
“And good god, look at that adorably spankable ass? Absolutely mind blowing,”
See, you’re starting to see yourself differently already…
…now do this everyday, every-single-day!
Adding one more thing each time.
Within a few weeks there’ll be nothing left you don’t love.
—————

REMEMBER YOURSELF WHEN YOU WERE IN HIGH SCHOOL SERIOUSLY
AREN’T YOU JUST SO MUCH MORE FANTABULOUS NOW?

—3—
Single?
Lonely?
Sick of all those couples pashing, snogging and fondling in the street?
Beat them at their own game.
Go on a date with the person you love - YOU!
Cook your favourite meal (or order take-away), light some candles, throw on your favourite movie.
It sounds silly…
…but enjoy it…this is you time…anyway…
…the fun parts still to come!
What do all those sickening couples do at the end of their dates?
Yep!
So get nekkid!
And get that butt to the bedroom for some naughty fun and games!
It’s purrfectly natural.
So don’t go feeling all guilty about it.
Remember his is ‘you’ time - so love yourself in every way that you want to.
Your mind and body will adore you for it!
—————

—4—
It’s dead easy to beat yourself up about being wrong.
We’ve all been there.
Sitting there alone, bemoaning to ourselves about all our mistakes…
…whilst spanking our inner moppet for all those silly things we’ve cocked up.
Stop.
It’ll take time, but start catching yourself doing things right.
Instead of smacking yourself for messing up…
…hug yourself for doing something awesome.
You didn’t burn the cheese sandwich this time? HHHUUUUGGGGGG :)
Yay! You’ve remembered to take the garbage out! HHUUUGGGG:)
Bugger…forgot to sign the report…but hey, it was a damn well written report. HUUGGG :)
Get the idea?
—————

LAUGH YOUR ASS OFF AT LEAST ONCE A DAY

—5—
If S.A.D is making you feel crappy what can you do?
(those not in the know - S.A.D is this case being Social Anxiety Disorder)
Talking is so hard isn’t it?
I know.
Been there.
Done that.
Always coming up with that awesome story or wit-tastic one liner about three days too late. Well, there are things you can do…
Start small!
Don’t aim for that big conversation first time out. Build up to it and you’ll be feeling so much more positive about yourself in no time. So to prepare yourself for that potential panic attack at the big night out with your mates on Friday, start earlier in the week.
a) On Monday, ask a stranger for the time.
b) On Tuesday, ask a shop-keeper about the weather. It’s a cheesy way to start but a small conversation will follow.
c) On Wednesday, do both Monday & Tuesday’s things for practice
d) On Thursday we need to up the anti - try start a conversation with a complete stranger. Make it about something you like so as not to throw yourself into the deep end.
e) On Friday, have your absolute favourite food for lunch. You want to feel really positive for that big night out - no chickening out now with excuses about being sck just ’cause you don’t want a panic attack in front of everyone.
And then by the time you hit the pub with your mates you’ve got several spontanious conversations with complete strangers under your belt.
YOU’RE AWESOME!
So starting a conversation with people who actually know you should be much easier,
Take your time until you’re comfortable,
Then start a conversation with the person you are most comfortable with.
This will ripple on to bring someone else in.
And another.
Soon, everyone there will be chatting because of you.
How awesome is that!
No panic attack.
So then all you need to do is try and have a fantabulous evening…because next week, you’re gonna do it all over agian - upping the anti each time. By the end of the year you’ll be feeling so much better about yourself.
:)

More ideas will be posted soon…so keep loving yourself until then…you are awesome :-)

Following on from Part I (which you can read here), I’m continuing my look at great books dealing with mental health related conditions. In this second part, we take a look at books written by people who have had first hand experience of mental illness. These are their stories of the battles, trials and tribulations they have had to face.

—

1. Alone by Myself by Melanie Voss

“Just a few months short of her 18th birthday, Melanie, a talented student & aspiring writer, commits suicide. Through her writing, she captures the thoughts & feelings of a teenager dealing with all the joy & stress of being on the brink of adulthood.”

Without doubt one of the finest accounts of suffering from a mental illness that I’ve ever read. I stumbled across this book in my favourite second hand bookshop in Melbourne (Book Affair, Carlton) and never having heard of it before and having a few spare dollars in my pocket and an empty space where a book should be in my life I picked it up. This book filled that space for only a few hours - the time it took for me to devour this absolutely captivating account of a teenagers battle with depression.

The book is made up of a series of diary entries written by Melanie throughout her teenage years, up until her untimely suicide days before her eighteenth birthday. Her death has robbed the world of a marvellous literary talent, her writing is honest, heartfelt and for the majority of the time downright beautiful in it’s portrayal of a young woman unsure of her place in the world and her attempts to understand and overcome her depression.

This is such a hard book to get hold of, which is a shame, as it should be required reading for all teenagers and adults alike. It is fantastic in bringing to light the problem of depression amongst young adults and in showing the world that sometimes teenagers are not suffering from “teen angst” but problems far more serious and life affecting.

You can find this book on Amazon here if you are interested in tracking down a copy.

2. You Don’t have to be Famous to have Manic Depression by Jeremy Thomas & Tony Hughes

This is a book in three parts, and it’s layout is such that I could include it not only in this part of my book features but also the next part (dealing with non-fiction). The first part of the book is a series of interviews between manic depressive Jeremy Thomas and his doctor of many years, Tony Hughes. It is a revelatory account of someone suffering from manic depression and debunks several of the myths and preconceptions surrounding the illness. It is a gloriously entertaining read packed with humour and insightful comments. The second part of the book is a series of “articles” written by other sufferers of manic depression talking about how the illness has affected their lives and how they’ve coped. The third part of the book is in appearance a brief encyclopedia of mental illness which at first view would appear pretty darned boring. However, infused with the wit of the authors is a compelling read from A-Z (or just as a way to look something up should the need arise)

I found this book by accident at my local library last week when I was looking  for I Never Promised You a Rose Garden (which I talked about last week) and am currently plowing through it during the odd moments I have the attention required to read.

This comes highly recommended (and if you fancy winning yourself a copy, check out the exclusive subscriber only competition on this blog!)

3. Bloodletting by Victoria Leatham

So few books have been written on the subject of self-harm, let alone books dealing with the personal account of a self-harmer so it’s fantastic to see a book available that is just this. Throughout her teens and twenties Victoria Leatham was a self-harmer, and this is an account of her life and how self-harm affected it. She discusses this taboo subject matter in an honest and at times ‘in your face’ style that in some sense is what this topic requires in order to smash down the misconceptions surrounding the issue. It takes a great deal of courage to write about yourself in such an honest style, and for this I have great admiration for the author.

—

So after those three books above I thought I would look at a few books which I haven’t actually read. As I mentioned above when I get into a depressed episode I find it hard to read, which frustrates me so, as I adore reading. Thus, as a means to get me reading again, I’m going to try one of the following (whichever I find first) and give it a go…and when I’ve finished I’ll let you know.

—

4. Depression and How to Survive It by Spike Milligan & Anthony W. Clare

“Spike Milligan reveals the dark side of his life in this book which is co-written with his psychiatrist Anthony Clare. He recalls the traumas of his childhood, his highly-strung mother, his largely absent father, the cruelties of a colonial upbringing and of sadism towards animals, the break-up of his first marriage, the mortar bomb which blew him up in Italy and the overwork which gave him a mental breakdown during the “Goon Show”. This book charts the development of this depression and his strategies for dealing with it were improvised, as both when he would get drunk with Peter Sellers, and clinically in his discussions with Clare.”
Find out more about this book on Amazon.

5. The Naked Bird Watcher by Suzy Johnston

“The Naked Birdwatcher takes you on the journey of a highly gifted young Woman from her schooldays to approaching her thirtieth birthday. A journey travelled though often on her own, never alone. It is a journey of a young woman’s awakening to the realisation of how her own mind which along with her athletic ability had worked with her to achieve the fabulous goals of her youth, begins to fight against her as she approaches adulthood and betrays her in her University years. A fight, we are unsure whether she will win or ultimately lose. We journey with her through her ordinary life (its ordinariness making the book ever more poignant) the battles, the triumphs and the defeats. The battles with her mind along with the battles she has to fight with some of those closest to her too blinkered to realise that nobody would make manic depression a life choice. The Naked Bird Watcher gives hope to those travelling with Manic Depression and those they take along with them. It also highlights the importance of having a support network to help you on your journey. Suzy it would seem has an exceptional support network, this will hopefully inspire those who could help a friend or family member with manic depression to try that bit harder to be there when needed. I have taken from this book that manic depression is a companion anyone could discover they have on their life’s journey; sometimes asleep, sometimes dozing, sometimes with them in their every waking minute. The aim and hope it would seem, is to find a way to get it to sleep and keep it sleeping. Everyone should read this book, it is an inspiration to all to see what can be achieved and how battles can be won if you believe in yourself enough and others believe in you.”
You can find out more about this book at Amazon.

6. The Rock Pillow: A Personal Account of Schizophrenia by Mark Lynne Folkard

“Staggering along through the night with my overnight bag, I made my way back to the trucking station. I was hallucinating badly again; I could see bodies and blood spread over the footpath and road in front of me. I felt as though I was walking through a horrific accident. The smell of blood and human flesh was on my own skin and made me flinch.”
Read more about this book at Bookworm.

—

So there we have it, six personal accounts out of thousands dealing with mental illness. If any of you have any personal favourites be sure to drop a comment so others can check them out, and stay tuned for a look at six great non-fiction books in the third and final part of this trilogy.

Now I’m not generally very knowledgeable in the field of antique art, but when you discover you have a great-grandfather who was a painter, and a stack of his old work in the attic your brain starts ticking.

I could use this…
Yes…
That’s not such a bad idea…

So I have set about attempting to raise money for mental illness related charities by selling some of his artwork.

A little about the artist:
Frederick Thomas Penson was born in Stoke-on-Trent, England, in March 1866. He studied art at the National Art Training School - which would later become the Royal College of Arts - in South Kensington, London. He also studied and practised art in Paris.

During his life F.T.Penson had work accepted and displayed at the Victoria & Albert Museum’s permanent collection and was also responsible for designing and executing the re-decoration of the Prince of Wales Theatre in Middlesbrough.

His favourite source of inspiration was in the grounds of Trentham Hall, part of the Estate of the Duke of Sutherland, which is depicted in many of his paintings.

He passed away in September 1951 due to senile myocardial degeneration.

The paintings which are for sale are all one off originals (not prints or copies) and are each handsigned by the artist. They range in date from 1901 to 1915 and are mostly landscapes. They are sold unmounted/unframed so you can choose your own :)

And remember…aside from minor costs, all profit will be donated toward charities combating and raising awareness of mental illness (which no, isn’t me, in case you’re wondering)

You can visit the gallery and make purchases at:
STRAY VISIONS: THE ART OF FREDERICK T. PENSON

I’ve always had a passing interest in photography and though I would never call myself another other than a budding amateur I’ve always gained a huge amount of satisfaction playing with camera and snapping of photos. Many moons ago I had my own website, however, as with all things the ever eroding tide of time eroded this from existence and, like so many things, we come around in that circular motion once again.

This blog is all my work. A collection of photos spanning over a decade; some good, some bad, some ugly, some beautiful.

Stray Thoughts Photography
::Landscape::Abstract::Travel::People

I hope you find something to enjoy here