Today I'm giving zero fucks about... fear
*Click "display images" at the top to see a picture of very little this week. But it's all about the verbal content, y'all.
Today I'm giving zero fucks about fear
I'm fearful of 2019.
The more that I ponder over life, in that very millennial, overly naval gazing type way that I seem incapable to resist, the more certain I feel that so much of our lives are governed by fear. Not just our lives even; society - its structures, its rules, its "ok"s and "not ok"s - are dictated by it. The biggest one, I always think, is the need to live a conventional life. Take it a step further (oh I just love that extra step) and I'm happy to propose that the very existence of convention itself is in large part down to fear. I'm not making a revolutionary statement when I say that I think - in fact, I'm damn sure - we, as humans, fear uncertainty. Thus, over millennia, we have gone about constructing lives and ideals of lives that follow a very set format, much like a roadmap. Because I love a map, I took the time to draw it out - and yes, I did do it in the style of a treasure map because, if I'm being honest, I really miss the days when we used to get to write pirate stories and there was always a treasure map in there and a map of some far-flung kingdom too if you were lucky. I'm just sorry for you guys that I couldn't be arsed to tea-stain and burn the edges of the paper.
I'm fairly certain that, other than the fact that it really is in pirate treasure map format, this is the roadmap that you all expected me to draw out. I took the liberty of adding myself to the map to show where I am, just for your reference (in case it's not clear, not moved out yet, bought a house, not in love). Essentially, I believe that with this blueprint seared into the fabric of our being from day one, we feel safer. Without it, before us lies at least 100 years of life, of unstructured time, completely lacking in goals, purpose or guidance. Sometimes I wonder if my map is missing a little because when I delve inside my mind and look forward I do just see an extremely wide, grey, barren space. There's nothing in it. No future partner, no future children, no career of which to speak - which is odd, because I'm quite a visual person so I would expect to see something. But no, there's certainly no red dotted line pointing me in the right direction.
And you know what? I imagine that if my mind map was to actually be most people's reality - if they had as much idea of what they were "supposed" to do as a bleak, black hole-like space yields - it would FREAK THEM THE FUCK OUT. Meanwhile, I think I find it more comforting for things to be nebulous. It's very hard to find expectation in a landscape of complete nothingness. A vacuum. What's more, I get to do whatever the fuck I like. But when you don't have life planned out, you don't know what difficulties might come your way - and that uncertainty can be scary.
I get how fear can drive us to try and tick off the check-boxes that life has put in place for us though. Maybe it's as comforting as that feeling I get when I remember I've done something I'd forgotten to put on my to-do list so I add it on and tick it off immediately. Mmm, ticks in boxes. It's also sort of understandable that a lot of people would look at my career to date and be like - WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT, while breathing frantically into a paper bag. What with my favourite means of finding a job being "to hustle" and my favourite job being "you tell me what you need doing and I'll do it, especially if I've never done it before". Never mind that my average job length is 3 months. Uncertainty, novelty, instability - oh my! (chimed the Lion, the Tin Man and the Straw Man simultaneously).
I am scared of uncertainty though. I'm also fearful of, what I see as, certainty. At least it seems like certainty if we are to believe that history repeats itself. I'll save you another diagram but the timeline of my mental health journey goes like this:
2012 - depression (5 months)
2013 - depression (5 months)
2014 - no depression (it was a vintage year)
2015 - depression (3 months)
2016 - depression (7 months)
2017/18 - depression (10 months)
Oh I'm good at it alright - really good at mental illness, that is. My Mum always said I'm good at everything I do (LOL). I've worked with the same therapist since I recovered from the first lot of depression aged 23, which was probably the worst one and much like a full-on breakdown (though I don't find that particularly helpful language, it's the best that the English language has to offer). And, of course, my therapist tells me in no uncertain terms that I am not guaranteed to get depression every year. In fact, she tells me in very certain terms that we can control our mental health through our behaviour and how attuned we are to ourselves and our needs, to understand ourselves, to know our weaknesses and the things we have to do to make sure we don't play into those. For example, I'm not allowed to work from home. Not ever. She has forbidden it. Half a day working from home and my mood is dragging along behind me on the floor - that's if I can even be bothered to get off my bed to drag it anywhere. That's just one example of some practical measures I've put in place that support the notion that I'm in control. Control = certainty = no fear.
But I'm still scared. It hit me today when a friend asked me "so Jacs, what time of year does it normally happen?". "Late Spring", I replied. I found myself counting out the months: January, February, March, April, May... five months. Five months to go until things go wrong again. Until the me that I love, the me that people applaud for being hyper productive, the me that knows how to network the shit out of life, the me that is kind and giving and helpful whenever she can be, the me that is training for two triathlons, the me that wakes up on so many days and thinks "yes, today is mine for the taking" - just five months until she's gone. When I threw my arms open in despair at probably the lowest period of my depressive episode last year and said to my Mum in desperation while arguing "you know me, Mum. Is this me? Do you really think this is what I'm like? Is this how I am?" and she replied "I just don't know. Isn't it?". That's when you know the old you has really gone. That was so very hard to hear. And, having only been better for five months currently, I'm not ready to lose myself again. Not yet.
I wish I didn't fear depression coming back. I wish I believed that I have the control over it my therapist tells me I do. The control that, on a good day, I believe I have too.
Recently, though, I was made to feel quite angry at the way someone perceived my perspective - that is one of slight inevitability - when it comes to my mental health. My coach called it "learned helplessness", which is a term used in psychology. "Learned helplessness" is what happens when someone feels they have no control over their situation, usually when something happens repeatedly, so that they begin to behave in a helpless manner. This stops the person from pursuing or noticing opportunities for relief or change. When she told me that... fuck me was I angry. Firstly, I don't consider myself helpless. Secondly, if I am, I haven't learned it and just decide to whip it out when I want to, when things get really bad. If I act helpless it's because I feel helpless. If I seem like I don't know the way out, it's because I don't fucking know the way out. If I come across as though I'm being hopeless about it all, it's because I feel more hopeless than I can tell you - and without hope you can't really fight because you don't see the thing that's there to fight for.
I was livid. And then I was determined, for a short while at least. Suddenly this wasn't the year that was going to get the better of me. All of a sudden I needed to demonstrate that I don't just get the helplessness out because it's easy, less hassle. Me falling into my depression isn't the equivalent of buying ready-rolled puff pastry. No. If I'm going to be helpless about stuff, it's only going to be because I've battled through the eggs, flour and fat until I can battle no more. Until my wrists are sore from kneading. Till my finger nails are yellow from butter. I'll be a mother fucking pastry chef before I get criticised with "learned helplessness" again. That's what I told myself, silly pastry metaphor and all.
But today, when sitting across from my friend over lunch, that determination was nowhere to be found. When I felt the pang of fear and adrenaline coarse through me as I realised that perhaps there was just a matter of months before each day brought me pain again, I didn't push it away. In fact, today that fear hit me like never before. I can still feel it now, hours later. The difference between today and the day I last saw my coach is that I don't feel the anger. I've never really felt anger when it comes to my mental health - saddened, disappointed, hard done by, ashamed, sorry, yes. But not angry.
I wonder if anger is stronger than fear though? I think it is. I think anger is a fervent bubbling of passion, a burning discontent for the way things are, an unignorable need for change, a relentlessness to speak until you're heard, an intense need for release. Anger does not take no for an answer. And, as you'll know by now, the way of the ZFs world is that I have to end up saying I give zero fucks about fear. But I can't do that if I'm not battling it. So... here's what I'm angry about.
I am angry that I lost my business (after recovering from mental illness)
I am angry that I lost two of my best friends (after recovering from mental illness)
I am angry that I lose all respect for myself
I am angry that I give up
I am angry that I don't seem to learn any lessons from one episode to the next - or not ones that I can implement
I am angry that my family have to go through it with me repeatedly
I am angry that my friends have to think "not again..." and lose me for months
I am angry that I don't believe in myself that I can change any of this
I am angry that I feel like it is my fault, even after all I know
I am angry that it happens to me
And I am angry because I know I'm better than this.
When I am angry, I am not helpless. I am bold and I am fearless.
It's time to back myself and I've decided that I'm going to let anger be my guide. I think we could all do with backing ourselves a bit more - to trust that though society may tell us to be fearful, to run from that which sits outside the norm, to see uncertainty as something we just can't handle... actually, we humans are more resilient than anyone can say. We learn, we adapt and we thrive. If we do what we've always done, based on what someone tells us is truth, then I'm worried we're missing out on the little fragments of opportunity that will let our brilliance shine, just like tiny glinting stars in a dark night sky. A terribly over-used simile perhaps, but that's what they look like to me. In the words of Rihanna, we all deserve to "shine bright like a diamond". She really is the great philosopher of our time.
So my promise. No more doing what I've always done. Let the coward in my mind that tells me "I can't" flee in the face of my anger. And watch me live this year - fearlessly.
If I can do it, you can too. Come at me - come at us - 2019.
Fan-Girling
All of the recent tweets from Rachel Riley aka the new Carol Vorderman (do you think anyone will ever stop describing her as "oh, you know Rachel, the one who does Carol Vorderman's job on Countdown"?). Her tweets about the disgusting anti-semitism that surfaced in the Labour party last year and persists are cutting, witty and touch the very heart of the matter. What's annoyed me also is that because people don't know she's Jewish they don't think she has the right to comment. Coming from another Jew (me), everyone has the right to stand up against anti-semitism. I'm not in any way, shape or form active in fighting it because I don't engage with politics because I refuse to get embroiled in that pathetic shit show. But I admire anyone who has the balls to make a stand themselves. So, Rachel Riley, I fan-girl you. (click for the tweets)
(^ That one's funniest if you're Jewish because you'll get it more)
Ear-Worming
This week's going to be a round-up of the full spectrum of songs I can't get off repeat. So you can see what an absurd mess of music I listen to. My ex once asked me: "Jacs, why do you only listen to... pop?". I denied all allegations, while listening to Katy Perry.
Freya Ridings - Maps (A Yeah Yeah Yeahs cover and the original melts my heart and so does this, though no one can rival Karen O's pure melt-worthiness)
Sweet but Pyscho - Ava Max (ok, ok, I know, this is UK Top 40 trash but it does have the line "So left but she's right though". Someone give the woman an Ivor Novello)
Work - C-Snake & MD Dj Mash Up - Masters At Work (I like that broomstick you're carrying; yes baby, I like it - you need to listen to it to understand this. Taking me back to uni days and reminds me of my pal Ellie)
Scribbling
How to: help someone with depression - part 2. This follows my first piece in the series, in response to a discussion with a friend who felt powerless in the grips of her girlfriend's depression. I knew the feeling so very well; not directly, but I'd seen it written on the faces of my family and sewn into the fabric of our family home, as I struggled through my periods of depression attached to the sofa in our front room.
In writing this piece I've realised that there really are no answers. How can we have answers for something we don't even understand? And that is the reality of this condition - not even doctors understand it fully. That is why we have so far to go. Still, I wrote a piece of what, on reflection, felt like annoyingly unsatisfactory tips for how to help people supporting people with depression. The suggestions are sound but they perhaps simply reiterate what many will know. Still, a reminder never hurts - especially the one to exercise some self-compassion and self-care. Sometimes the hardest challenge of all when all you want to do is pour your energy into fixing someone else.
Hat-Tricking
How Millennials Became The Burnout Generation (34 mins - call it a weekend read) for making me question my dislike for the word "burnout"; I think it's just yet another way of avoiding the term "mental illness" or to even discuss health issues in the context of "mental health". But the article makes a valid point: is a path to burnout the one that all of us millennials are on? Are we simply dancing on and off it on this inevitable journey? I'm not sure, but I do believe life is just a little bit fucked - and that our mental health suffers the consequences.
To Take Charge Of Your Career, Build Your Tribe (7 mins) for being the perfect article for a recent realisation of mine. My friend recently told me that I'm a starfish - that is someone is naturally entrepreneurial and thrives off of making connections with others. I don't just love creating my own tribe - it makes me feel safe, connected, in the thick of the action, and gives me the opportunity to help others - but I love creating tribes for other people. This piece promotes that. It also claims that "Most useful and precious among our illusions, my research suggests, is the illusion of one’s self as masterful — able to endure adversity, experience freedom, and be of service to others." And that a tribe will help you get there in the modern, fluctuating world of work.
You're Packing Your Carry-On All Wrong. Here's How To Do It Right (4 mins) for giving me a new mini challenge when I go off on my travels in a couple of weeks (you'll be getting a newsletter from Tel Aviv!). And with the extortionate costs of hold luggage these days, we all need a way to slimline our hand luggage, let's face it. I'm taking a carry-on for 9 days in Israel because the alternative was £40 extra each way; I'll be using all the tips in this piece.
Tweeting
I am that person trying to make everyone in the office like me when I first join. Always prioritising relationships, aren't you Jacs. Well, not this year. In fact, not tomorrow when I start my new job. My Auntie, wise woman that she is, called me out on it and then I got home and saw this tweet. So it's written in the stars. Or on Cindy Gallop's twitter feed. Not sure which is more prophetic.
QOTD (like #ootd but more quoety)
So on-ZFs-theme for this week, it had to go in. This is truth. This is my truth. From the brilliant memoir I'm currently reading, "Shoot the Damn Dog" by Sally Brampton.
"As to whether the depression will come back, it is every depressive's fear. It might. It might not. I have no way of knowing. I still get low but I have discovered that if I can meet that difficulty, I can go some way to heading it off. The most important thing is not to become trapped in fear. Depression is a paralysis of hope. One thing I know is true. Try never to abandon hope for if you do, hope will surely try to abandon you."
The Ladder (you know, the one us women extend to other women 'cos we want to see them climb)
This year is Jess Wade's year. If you don't know her, she's a massive #WomeninSTEM (I can't not hashtag it) advocate, particularly for women in science. She has single-handedly created 450+ new Wikipedia entries this year for women, LGBTQ and BAME scientists, when she realised that women (and minorities) in science were hugely under-represented in the online encyclopedia. She came to this realisation and the decision that she had to do something about it after reading the book "Inferior: How Science Got Women Wrong - and the New Research That's Rewriting the Story" by Angela Saini. She then led a hugely successful crowdfunding campaign, backed by Angela herself, to crowdfund enough money to put a copy of "Inferior" in every state school in the UK. It went viral and she hit her target of £20k and then some (also matched £ for £ by the publishers who jumped on board the good ship Jess Wade. I mean, who wouldn't?).
And the Wadester is at it again (I should probably ask her if if annoys her actually, seeing as she's my pal). She's now crowdfunding to get a copy of the very same book into every public school in NYC. The goal is $10,000 and they're at $5571 at the time of writing. I'm not including this here to ask you to give your money - I really don't want to make a habit of that. Instead I want to highlight some of the awesome stuff that's going on in the world, because there are crazy motivated and passionate people amongst us. Secondly, just another example of how if you want to change the world, you sure as hell can do it. It doesn't have to be big (and I think Jess Wade's efforts are enormous) but it can be something that touches yours and others' little part of the world. Ripple effects and all that.
If you would like to check out the crowdfunder, then you can do so here.
Testimonials
Word on the street has it that everyone was just too busy nursing NYE hangovers to send me their lovely words this week. It's ok. No biggie. *gets ready to constantly check inbox after clicking send on this one*.
Like what you've just read? Pass this on to a woman or man who gives so few fucks that they couldn't even give a fuck that I wrote part of this newsletter while wearing a brand new wetsuit that I bought today. Preach.