Boredom As A Good Thing

When was the last time you were bored? I'm as guilty of chronic busyness as anyone. But the problem with this is that creativity goes down the tubes. And I'm not just talking about real artists and writers here. I'm talking about you and me and being creative in thinking about our lives, at work, or making time for whatever it is that we really like doing that involves some sort of creativity.

Thing is, for me, writing is not just something I do when I sit down at my laptop to write. The words, or at the very least, vague ideas, have been brewing around in my head for a while. And when does this actually happen? Usually in those moments where I'm walking from the train to the tube or standing in a queue or sitting on the bus staring out the window. Or even when I'm preparing dinner (notice I didn't say cooking), waiting for the timer to go on the Marks & Spencer chicken in the oven.

And when I'm really busy there's no time for even those fleeting moments of nothingness which my brain needs to do some sort of creating.  

I am often flummoxed by this paradox in work of any kind. Creative thoughts and problem solving is usually a result of time away from tasks and a mind not engaged in overdrive or stressed out. Do high-flying executives carve out solo time just to think? I bet they do. Perhaps that is why very successful people appear to be exercise nuts -- they are doing it more for their brain than for their body. By spending an hour first thing in the morning pounding on the treadmill (something incredibly boring, in my opinion), their minds actually have time to mull, to brew, to work. And as we know, mind and body are far more connected than most people think. 

I've been dipping into Brene Brown's book on vulnerability recently, which the first time around I thought was hard going. But it's connecting with me more now and she makes the very good point that people who limit the daily anxiety of life -- and just cope better -- are good at setting boundaries. They believe they are enough in order to say "Enough!".

This really resonated with me. In order to live the life you want, to connect with the people you want, to do the things that you want (which for me include creative endeavors), you have to set boundaries. Which for me, specifically, means making sure that I have time to get a little bit bored, to give my brain the space and time to think.
 
Do you carve out time specifically to think? I'd be curious to know how you do it.

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What If I Need It?

The manic wild clear out is progressing. The Hub and I have taken many bags to the charity shop, and after this upcoming week's Saturday bus trip -- with no car, we make for unusual creatures on the bus -- I estimate we will hit about 30 bags. I lost count at some point and the Hub scurried off with some items to donate before I could photograph them and make a record for the annals of MB&S history.

I've completed tops, bottoms, hanging clothes, socks, underwear, handbags, scarves, belts, hats, gym clothes, beach clothes, sleepwear, shoes, jewelry, books, skincare products, other toiletries, make-up, valuables (whatever that is!), electrical equipment, household equipment, household supplies, kitchen items, food supplies, games, playing cards, knick-knacks, candles, luggage, bedding, towels and seasonal items.

Phew.

By the way, this is what a bathroom looks like, deconstructed.

Scary stuff. (I love this photo, by the way, because no one can quite believe what a little hoarder I am.)

Still to go: the hard stuff, including papers, photos, sentimental papers, wall hangings/artwork. Not to mention the boxes my Mom will be shipping over which will contain some of the really tricky childhood stuff. And we've already gone through those boxes once together over Skype. You see, my parents are trying to move too. Change is in the air -- it's like Mary Poppins or something.

Apparently de-cluttering is contagious because I've convinced quite a few people to buy Ms Kondo's book and give this a go. And we've been discussing pitfalls, like what to do if you get rid of something you need. What then?

Don't worry, I've already had a bit of a crisis. I got rid of this weird purple cardigan that I was sure I never wore anymore. But then I realized that there's a particular blue dress with some purple trim for which it had been the perfect companion. But it was too late. Purple cardie had already left for the charity shop!

For a moment I was truly panicked and almost sad. I immediately started regretting all this clearing out nonsense. It was uncomfortable and I had become overzealous and really had done it now. Throwing away perfectly reasonable things that I actually needed. For a moment, I even thought about going to the charity shop and buying it again. Seriously. And then I came to my senses and figured out that I could probably find something else to wear with it. In fact, that stone-colored cropped blazer looks far better with it.

One of the big reasons I'm doing this clear out is to help myself learn to let go of fear. (I know, not quite as cool/sexy as bungee jumping or walking with lions, but baby steps here.) So I think that finding out I'm missing something is really the best thing. It wasn't really a disaster, and there's always another solution, if not an actual better outcome.

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• A Breaking-Bad-Shaped Hole
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Book Review: A New Earth

Now, some people love self-help books and others groan at the thought of them (guess which one I am). So let me start this post off with a question: 

Do you ever wonder when you're going to be happy? Do you feel like you live in a constant state of wanting things to be better, waiting for the day when you have less stress and find some peace? Do you often find yourself thinking that you will worry less and be happier when [fill in the blank] happens?

The first self-help book I ever read that really started to get at the root of these issues was Richard Carlson’s Stop Thinking, Start Living. It was the first time I realized that perhaps I was causing my own unhappiness. That I really didn’t need things to be a certain way for everything to be OK.

I will continue to recommend Stop Thinking, Start Living as a must-read, but A New Earth: Create A Better Life by Eckhardt Tolle (you may know him as the author of The Power of Now) is the newest must-have self-help book to sit on my bookshelf.

Tolle explains that the root of all our suffering comes from a lack of awareness of the fact that the person we know to be 'I' is split into two parts – consciousness and the ego. The ego is that part of your brain that you 'hear' all the time. The thinking part. It spends its time getting attached to things, not just material things, but any kind of form. It likes to be right (and for others to be wrong). And it's also a big fan of drama and storytelling. It is – essentially – our identity, our personality.

Its purpose is to survive, no matter what, so it attaches to whatever it can. For example, if you decided to rid yourself of the ego and attachment by renouncing all possessions, the ego would look for something else, say attachment to anti-consumerism. How many people do you know who have tried to search for greater meaning through something and then become unbearable with the steadfastness with which they attach to it?

Understanding the idea of consciousness versus ego is not an easy one – for the very fact that we are so strongly identified with our ego. But Tolle does an amazing job of making it all so clear, through examples and approaching the concept in many different ways until you find your perspective slowly shifting.

I believe (myself included) that most of us experience a background unhappiness without realizing that we are creating this ourselves. The ego makes assumptions – unexamined thoughts that are then confused with reality. As Tolle himself says, "Listen to people’s stories and they could all be entitled 'Why I Cannot Be at Peace Now.'"

And how to be at peace now? We’ve all heard it before, but by making peace with the present moment. The problem is that people don't really believe this will work. They live for the future, they live in the past, and they are skeptical that if they just focused on what they were doing right now, at this very moment, that nothing would change, nothing would get better.

Read the whole book, I say. Because it will tell you again and again in different ways, effectively drumming it into your head so you can finally start putting it into practice:

To the ego, the present moment is, at best, only useful as a means to an end. It gets you to some future moment that is considered more important, even though the future never comes except as the present moment and is therefore never more than a thought in your head. In other words, you are never fully here because you are always busy trying to get elsewhere.

And the best part? You don’t really have to do that much to make peace with the present. All that is required is a subtle shift in consciousness; an acknowledgement that maybe there is a different way. And it might just get you that one step closer to peace.

P.S. I clearly thought this book was fantastic. However, I will caution that there is a chapter on the 'Pain-Body' which I thought was a little out there (and I am pretty liberal when I read these books). You'll know when you get to it. I suppose I am not sure I agree with his assessment of collective pain-bodies, particularly the bit about women.

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Routines

What is it about routines? Why is it that even something nice like a bank holiday on a Monday throwing off my routine can make me feel a little icky, a little unsettled?

In my early 20s I discovered that I was having panic attacks. I wasn't sure what to call them and didn't even know that they had a name, in fact. The only 'mind problem' I was aware of was depression. But I didn't feel sad. I was just having moments of sheer utter panic for no apparent reason. Sometimes it would happen late at night while I was awake lying in bed, or on the subway going to my art class downtown. I knew something wasn't right, and looking back I even remembered having some attacks when I was very young.

Eventually I did something about it. I went to see a psychologist and had sessions with her for about two years. I learned what a panic attack was, that they were actually very common, and she taught me some techniques for dealing with them. Doing some therapy was a great experience actually. I think everyone should do it at some point in their life – it's like taking a continuing education course – on yourself. As long as you are ready to work, because facing your own demons ain't always pretty.

I truly believe that people's general anxiety levels are set pretty early on. And I am a worrier. Give me a spare moment and I will come up with something to worry about. My parents used to call this my 'overactive imagination', like it was something good or at least interesting. But when you draw pictures age five of giant blue monsters that tower over the end of your bed, I do wonder.

As I talked about in my post Baby 19, there is some scientific evidence out there to back up my anecdotal evidence (my own observation of myself) that we don't have much control over our anxiety levels.

But what we do have is control over is how we cope with our anxiety.

I was given a great cognitive behavioural technique (CBT) by my therapist back in the day that helps if I do find myself having panic attacks. But I find these days I don't need it so much as I've developed other coping mechanisms. In fact, I don't have many panic attacks anymore.

One of the most helpful things is just knowing my triggers. Holidays (sad, but true), routines being broken, extreme work stress (particularly working late at night), lack of exercise, too much time alone, not enough time alone (ironically) and abundant amounts of drinking. Alcohol may soothe the anxiety short-term but a build up of cocktails – no matter how nice that cosmopolitan tastes – isn't helpful.

Exercise helps, especially taking long walks and yoga. Writing helps too. Having a place where I can fully discuss things that emerge from my 'overactive imagination' (such as Shrapnelphobia) is a Godsend (so thank you, MB&S readers, for listening). But mostly, knowing that my anxiety is normal for me and will happen at certain times, allows me to just hang on and live through it. I know it doesn't feel particularly nice, but I know it won't kill me and that it will pass eventually.

I don't know, I think I'm not alone in suffering from anxiety – the world can be a pretty sad and scary place sometimes. And people do seem to love their routines, and things I feel are helpful too, like exercise or meditation. We all need our coping mechanisms. Do you suffer from any kind of anxiety? How do you cope?

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Holiday Honesty

With a holiday, comes expectation. Living in the UK, which is (sort of) part of Europe, the holiday is regarded with the utmost of respect. People here actually insist on taking them, no matter what. There are no mutterings about how they don't actually have time to take all their vacation days or tales of working all the way through holiday time (although this may not apply to all professions, particularly investment bankers). But generally, holidays in this country are put on a pedestal. And whenever there is a lull in the conversation, you can bet that talk will turn to upcoming holidays or the glory of ones just past. "Have you taken your summer holiday yet?" is the question that invariably comes up at some point during a business lunch. Usually while eating the little chocolates that come with the cappuccino.

Coming back into the office after a holiday, you must be glowing. And not necessarily in skin color (although I must say, one of things I love about this country is people actually think I look tan sometimes – this never happens in America). It is not the done thing to speak ill of one's holiday, like it is a revered dead person. You can't say, "Actually, the holiday was horrible – we argued the whole time, the food was gross and I had a nervous breakdown about the direction of my life while standing in a church trying to look interested in a triptych."

This is not what just happened on my holiday. I promise you. It was a good holiday, in fact. We pretended to do some serious tanning and then spent an unusually large amount of time discussing if we had turned a darker shade. We learned that all's fair in love and war and also when it comes to sun loungers. We didn't realize that you had to 'reserve' one at about 7 a.m. with your towel and actually had to steal one on our first day (we did not get caught).

There was a nice mix of sitting by the pool reading and also driving around seeing interesting hillside towns and old churches. We even saw some really creepy relics and two whole mummies. It's still not clear why they – plus the torso of Saint Sebastian – are kept in a small Croatian village, but visiting them was interesting nonetheless.

We ate really good food (perhaps a little too much) and sat outside most evenings looking at the sea and drinking cocktails. Occasionally we played cards. And sometimes there was live music.

It was a great holiday. But it was not perfect. Whenever you go on holiday, you take your life with you – which unfortunately includes your anxieties, idiosyncrasies and problems. We were not happy every second and there were moments during the week when I felt quite sad, or even just average, and then annoyed with myself for feeling something but sheer joy (!) at all on an expensive holiday. But a holiday isn't an escape from yourself and often when you strip away your daily routines and coping mechanisms, issues can often be magnified. I am actually more likely to feel anxious on a holiday. And I am certain to have a grand sense of humor failure because there will definitely be a moment when I can't get anything to eat and I am actually very hungry.

I think the best way of approaching a holiday is seeing it for what it is – it's a break, a chance to change up the scenery. I may see some new amazing things and experience another culture. I'll eat some good food, enjoy The Hub's (or friends') company and maybe do some good reading. I know the types of things I enjoy (like getting extra sleep), so the more I infuse those things into my vacations, the better they become. But a holiday is not a panacea for all that ills you. And sometimes I feel like that's the perception, so I become worried that my holiday was not the most amazing week ever – while surely everyone else's must have been just perfect.

I feel as though I've made a confession, a little bit like the ungrateful turncoat. But like so many things, appreciating life as it is instead of yearning for perfection makes it much more enjoyable, in my opinion. And I read an Edith Wharton quote just today which sums it up all so well:

"If only we'd stop trying to be happy, we could have a pretty good time."

Do you agree with me? Or do you want to have me condemned for holiday treason?

 
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Shrapnelphobia

I'm glad that I didn't know I was going to have an MRI scan yesterday until about an hour before I did. There was no time to discuss it with friends or look it up on the Internet – in other words, no time to fret. Because I'll tell you this, I had enough to worry about when I was actually having the MRI. Extra time to create dreaded scenarios would not have been a good thing.

My first thought? Being put into this type of contraption is definitely what would happen to me if I was ever abducted. This is an amazing way to torture someone – it's just like being buried alive in a space capsule. And I wonder why I was breathing so heavy during my first five minutes in there.

I was also sure there must be some shrapnel in my body that I didn't know about. Before the scan they ask you about all the foreign objects that could be in your body. Dental work, IUDs, metal shavings in your eyes (say what?), and of course, shrapnel. What if I have some shrapnel that I'm not aware of? Secret shrapnel. At one point my knee hurt and I was sure it was because some sort of metal was going to work its way out, like in Alien.

The MRI was loud and long – even though technically, it was only 20 minutes. I did lots of slow breathing and pretending I was in Bikram yoga, comforting myself that at least I wasn't also sweating my brains out. But I swear I could feel the liquid in my body sloshing around due to the magnets moving around my body. And I really have never thought I was claustrophobic, but apparently I am and maybe have some other phobias I also wasn't aware of, like shrapnelphobia.

Of course I was cool as a cucumber on the outside, joking with the radiologists about Grey's Anatomy. This is typical of me. No one believes I'm as anxious as I am. "But you are so calm," they always comment. Honestly, I don't know why this is. Perhaps it is one of my superpowers, the other one being my ability to eat more cheese in one sitting than should be legal (all without an ounce of tummyache).

The day started out nice enough. I went to my spinal surgeon appointment (for the background to this story, click here). And even though he actually made me wait for an hour to see him, he was so nice that I felt guilty and easily forgave him.

After listening to my story about the back pain that has persisted on and off since a year ago and examining me (in addition to reading the detailed letter from Super Physio), he said that my symptoms – where the pain comes and goes, often getting better only to get worse again – was consistent with a disc problem. My heart sank. I was hoping he would say the opposite, such as: "No need to get a scan, you sound fine!"

But no, he said we would get an MRI done and take a look at my spine. He added that typically we'd see a bit of damage to my spine anyway, considering I was born in 1976 and it was now 2011 (his exact words – I like the way he phrased it). Over the years it sees quite a bit of wear and tear, he explained, which is kind of amazing as I'm only 35 – what would an 80-year-old spine look like? Or do you see most of the damage in the first 30 years? (Something to investigate, perhaps)

I am kept quite calm by the fact that my physio sent me to a surgeon who she considers is not "knife happy" (her words). Also, that she thinks the most likely scenario would be a shot of cortisone to calm down the inflammation and then continue with the physio I've already been doing. And what the surgeon said, finally, was that we would look at the MRI scan to see how to make my physio work "most effective". That didn't sound like someone prepared to cut into me.

Luckily, I am seeing him on Monday, so will know quite soon what the scan shows. In the meantime I've been going to yoga and trying not to think about it (not really working). But I have to say, if there is a disc problem, I might actually feel happy, as this past year has been quite frustrating. Now that my neck/shoulders are behaving so beautifully and there's no more pain there, I could really do with having my back sorted out too. And the Hub – he'd really like to play tennis with me. It's a small thing, but it kind of represents the difficulty with the situation. There are tennis courts near our flat and it would be really nice to meet after work, hit the ball around a bit and then go get some dinner. It's the kind of thing that most people in their 30s can do without hesitation. It would be nice.

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Friday Find: On Mental Illness

Mental illness isn't something that only happens to other people – in fact, according to the UK's Mental Health Association, one in four British adults experience at least one diagnosable mental health problem in any one year. And mixed anxiety and depression is the most common mental disorder in Britain.

Whether it's you, or someone you know – a close friend or family member – the likelihood is that mental illness has touched your life in some way.

And even though our society has come a long way in acknowledging that mental health is something that needs to be cared for, much like our physical health, there remains much stigma attached to illnesses like anxiety and depression, let alone bi-polar disorder or schizophrenia.

Journalist Alice Bradley wrote a great piece this week on her own decision to medicate for her depression, something I just couldn't help but share. Because it's when people share their stories – their feelings and experiences – that stigma falls away.

It's when we realize that mental illness doesn't happen to other people and other people's family members, but to people just like ourselves, that we can develop compassion and facilitate an open discussion on the topic.

I think there's so much work to be done generally in this area, especially in the public sector's treatment of those with mental illness, but breaking down stigma is something we can all help do right away.

In fact, just this week, there was a NY Times article about the creator of a treatment used worldwide for severely suicidal people, who told her own story of mental illness in public for the first time last week. According to the article, Dr. Marsha M. Linehan of the University of Washington said, "So many people have begged me to come forward, and I just thought — well, I have to do this. I owe it to them. I cannot die a coward."

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2

The Great Clothing Clean Out

Clothes can often be loaded for women. They are our protection, a statement, and can represent what we desire or what we wish was better about ourselves. For some, buying clothes and going shopping can be great fun or a distraction. It can also be an addiction.

I have to admit, I am not the biggest fan of shopping. No matter how at peace you are with your body, sometimes it's no match for the dressing room lighting. Or pick out the wrong cut of skirt and suddenly you appear to have lumps jutting out of your body in places you didn't even know there was a problem. It's not for the faint of heart.

For me clothes shopping is also interlinked with my constant battle not to hang onto old clothes -- things that don't fit, don't look nice or just contain a sentimental value (but yet they sit stuffed away at the back of the closet or in the bottom of a drawer). What if I need it again? What if I ever do some painting and need overalls? I keep old pairs of jeans in case I can use the material to patch another pair. As if I have ever patched anything in my life.

Earlier this week I wrote about a program I watched on hoarding and it gave me a renewed drive to try to grapple with my pack-rat demons when it comes to my clothes.

And the truth is, that in the past few years I've got better. I try to do a good clean out of my clothes at the end of each summer/winter season (there are only two seasons in England - warmish and coldish). I seek some honesty with myself: did I actually wear it all season?

When my cousin came over for the wedding I asked her to go through all the clothes that no longer fit me. Twelve years my junior, in her early 20s, there was a lot of stuff that looked great on her. And it was much easier parting with things when I knew they were going to my lovely cousin.

But still, there are loads of dresses I hang on to that I don't wear and all sorts of strange things I can't seem to throw away, like oversized tee-shirts with the names of trade publications I once worked for stenciled on them. These are not high-fashion items I should be treasuring.

I think the crux of my problem lies in my refusal to see my own wardrobe as a changeable, living thing. I'm not even the type who buys 'investment' pieces! But the reality is that we buy new things all the time, our lives change, our jobs change, our shapes change, and our tastes change. Even if I like something a lot, I can grow tired of wearing it. And there's that old chestnut of hanging onto clothes that don't fit. If you lose or gain weight, guess what, you can buy new clothes – the ones you are holding onto may no longer be in style or to your taste anyway.

Keeping things that you actually wear now and make you feel good is the stuff equivalent to living in the moment.

So this past weekend I took my first step in the getting-rid-of-things-I-don't wear cold turkey process. Without questioning, I asked myself, 'do I wear this?' and if the answer was no, then I took it out of the drawer or closet. Everything is now sitting up in our attic for phase two.

I plan to ask myself three questions when the real sorting begins:

1. Do I wear this? Right now?

2. Do I feel good in this?
3. If neither are true, why am I hanging onto this… and it is rational or just emotional?

I'm planning to give myself a little leeway. I have two small storage boxes. I will allow myself to keep some sentimental items, but only as long as they fit into those two boxes. Everything else will go to the charity shop or be thrown away. I'll let you know how it goes.

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• The Art Of De-cluttering
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2

Change: Acceptance Is The Hardest Part

My Mom says that my personality was fully formed before I was even born. Nearly two weeks past my due date, in the scorching summer of 1976 (I am a bicentennial baby), I had no interest in leaving the safe harbor of the womb. My Dad even took my Mom bike riding through Central Park to try to induce labor. In the end, it was a dinner of tuna casserole that finally caused her to go into labor – perhaps my distaste of fish and seafood started at a very young age.

I've never been too interested in change. I'm the kind of person who is usually content where they are, craves routine and generally fears too much upheaval and chaos. I sometimes take it to an absurd level. I never actually feel like getting into the shower, but then once I'm in, I don't want to get out.

When I found out this month's word for the Self-Discovery Word by Word series was 'change', I was slightly terrified. How do I write about something that I struggle with every day? (Ah wait, I write about things I struggle with every day all the time!)

The problem with not being comfortable with change is that change is the constant. And change is what provides growth. I may not like it, but I know its importance. Which is why I do crazy things like move to other countries without really knowing anyone. And why although marriage is a terribly risky thing to do, I am willing to take the plunge and try to figure what love really is.

You can face life head on and take things as they come, experiencing them fully, or you can hide away under the blankets grasping onto the fantasy that you can control things and as long as you are able to do that you'll be safe. But that's exhausting.

There are also those who love change – crave it in fact. But I think that can be a problem as well. When we are not prepared to accept life as it is, when we are constantly looking for something better, brighter and different – that elusive thing that will make us happier – it's easy to get caught up in the illusion that what we need to do is change our circumstances, rather than our attitude to life itself.

Unhappy in your relationship? Dump him. Unhappy at work? Switch jobs. Feeling like things aren't complete? Move. I'm not saying that there aren't times to do these things, but it's worth examining our own attitudes to life and whether or not our perception is actually the crux of the problem. Learning that I create the life I have from my own set of thoughts and beliefs was the biggest revelation I've ever had. It's up to me and no one else to make me happy. Not my partner, my job, my friends or even my breakfast (even if it contains bacon!).

I think maybe those who fear change and those who crave it aren't actually that different from each other. Both don't want to accept life as it is – and rightly so, as it's a hard thing to do. But when we accept, we break down the barriers we've created, which ironically, makes life that tiny bit better.

This post is part of the Self-Discovery Word by Word blogger series. Mara, over at Medicinal Marzipan, came up with this month's word. Learn more about participating in Mara’s post and you can also read her excellent post on change here.

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2

What I Wear Now (Right Now)

I was watching a fascinating program the other day on T.V. called 'Hoarders'. It's a show on the Bio channel (don't judge me) that aims to help hoarders clean up their homes and also deal with the mental health issues causing the hoarding in the first place.

It may sound unethical to put someone on television with mental health issues and let other people watch them, however, at least this program is trying to help. And there are some programs that put those with mental health issues on T.V. without trying to help them – which is pretty bad, in my opinion. Also, if someone watches a program like this and it encourages them to get help for any type of anxiety or obsessive-compulsive disorder that they are suffering from, it can only be a good thing. Right?

Laying aside whether or not I should have been watching this program, it really made me think about the way I deal with stuff. Objects. Things.

Hoarding is a real risk for me. As an anxious person, I do feel particularly attached to things, especially those that have sentimental value. I also just like having stuff. Especially extra stuff. Just in case I need it.

I'm determined to fight it, particularly as I get older, which is apparently when hoarding gets worse. Also, I feel surprisingly great when clutter is gone.

Apparently, like anything in life, there's a real spectrum of hoarders. From people who just have a lot of stuff (perhaps classified as the 'cluttery sort'), to those who literally keep garbage. The latter is considered a 'Stage 5' and often they are health risk to themselves and those around them.

Also, people generally can be prone to hoarding, but it is traumatic events in their life that cause it to get out of control. I was particularly struck by one woman on the program whose hoarding had worsened after she gave birth to a still-born son. One of the professionals on the show explained to the viewer that she was using hoarding as a coping mechanism. She was surrounding herself with things that were a part of her past or things she had bought for the future – but that she was no longer allowing herself to live in the present. 

This really hit home for me. That's exactly what excess stuff is really about. It's the embodiment of what, in my mind, is living in fear and misery. Being stuck in the past or the future and now allowing ourselves to experience the here and now.

I was in our spare bedroom last night looking at a blue fleece I had taken out of one of our closets. And I thought, "I don't wear that fleece anymore," but yet I had folded up to put up in the attic with the rest of my winter clothes. So why was I planning to keep it?

My Mom bought that fleece for me. It's a good brand. And I have a very fond memory of wearing it to visit my aunt in Holland, about a year and a half before she died of cancer. I know because there's a picture she took of me in the main square in Haarlem, smiling and wearing the blue fleece.

But I don't wear it anymore. Which made me think: what if I got rid of all the clothes I don't wear, right now, at this moment, no matter what the reason?

It was one of those moments, where your vision is clear and you can see the issue for what it is.

Getting rid of everything I don't wear would mean no longer having that yellow dress I once wore so much and wish I could still fit into. And the bridesmaid's dress from my friend's wedding in 2005. It would mean shedding all those things I keep 'just in case'.

Could I do it? I don't know. I'm kind of scared, but also completely exhilarated by the idea. I just might try it – I'll let you know.

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Opportunity Cost

There is a big opportunity cost to planning a wedding. I suppose there is a big opportunity cost to anything in life though, really. If you're not familiar with the economic term, opportunity cost is the cost of passing up the next best choice whenever you make a decision. For example, by going to university/college you sacrifice three or four years of income you could have been making. That money – or whatever your next best choice is (travelling the world, perhaps?) – is the opportunity cost of going to university.

So I suppose when I tally up what this wedding actually costs us and our families I should also think about the pay check I could have made by having a part-time job. (It’s definitely THAT time consuming.)

The other 'cost' of planning a wedding is the toll it takes on your energy for other things. It’s quite ironic that I am spending a small fortune to have my hair and makeup professionally done on the day. Because for the past few months I have been incapable of wearing any makeup to work and because I am wearing my hair 'up' have not been able to have it cut and styled – so it has grown out way too much. Alas, most days I just wrap it in a bun at work like an old school teacher. And today I’m not sure that my clothes actually match.

I think it's fair to say that I was a bit of a mess this week in general. I left the deli one day without my lunch. The woman had to run after me. When I told her I was getting married in less than two weeks she understood! She also nearly hugged me with joy, which was actually really nice (since I was having a bit of a wobble that morning over a family issue).

It's funny, the less I sleep and the more of a sort of general mess I am, the less I feel worried and anxious. People keep telling me to relax or try to give me tips on how best to sleep. It's all nice and I appreciate the thought, but strangely, I'm actually ok with feeling a little strung out. Because I know it will pass. I really wouldn't expect anything different at this point in time with what's about to happen. I think if it were things as usual and I wasn't sleeping well I'd be far more worried.

This is actually a big step for me. I'm no stranger to being stressed but I'm also no stranger to being stressed about being stressed. Which is taking things a bit too far. But these days I'm busy and have a lot on my mind, and I'm ok with that. I'm just checking things off the list and trying to be kind and nice to myself. Being alone sometimes helps me – so I worked from home one day this week just to feel the peace of being by myself and not being distracted. It was really helpful -- not just for my sanity but also getting things done (need to remember that for the future).

As we gear up for the wedding 'week', when everyone starts arriving and all the finishing touches need to get done, I'm not going to be able to keep blogging (at my pre-wedding turtle-like pace). I think it will be a good three weeks where I won't be here much – although if I am so inspired and can manage to sneak away in a closet somewhere with my laptop I may do a cheeky post…

But in case I don't, thanks for listening, dear readers, to my musings and tales about the wedding and everything else in the past few months. I'll be back with a lot more time on my hands and lots to say (I'm sure) towards the end of March.

Related Posts:

• More Parties, Please
• People Pleasing

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To Know Or Not To Know

I'm not sure exactly when it happened, but all of a sudden Future Hub was mentioning current events and my mind was just coming up blank. He was incredulous that I wasn't aware of some parliamentary scandal or another. "You mean, you haven't been following it at ALL?" he said, probably one normal Tuesday evening.

Thing is, one day I just got tired of reading the free newspapers in London. In the morning there's Metro and after work The Evening Standard. Everyone seems to read them and they litter the train seats and the tube seats and the flat bit in the middle of the escalators. There's a lot of highly entertaining stuff in them – restaurant reviews, celebrity gossip and of course news. The regular serious stuff like budget cuts and politics and business news but also pretty much every horrible thing that happens in Britain and the world. Children being tortured and abused, accidental holiday deaths and women cyclists in London being run over by lorries (trucks). The women always seem to be exactly my age. And of course whoever she was, she definitely had a promising career and there's always a pretty picture of her smiling back at you.

A week ago the header read: Mother and Son Killed in Bathtub. Apparently they were electrocuted when an heater fell into the tub. I didn't read the story, just peered over at it across from the tube aisle (which also toughened my resolve to write this particular blog soon).

I am aware that horrible things happen in this world. Everyday, all day long. But does it do me any good to read about them morning and evening, day in and day out? Perhaps it would be useful to know not to keep electrical appliances close to the bathtub, however, my Mother has hammered that lesson into my head for as long as I have been alive. And in Britain they don't even have electrical sockets in bathrooms, such is the fear quotient about mixing electricity and water (which begs asking how this freak accident actually happened – and I don't know, not having read the story).

I'm not suggesting totally cutting oneself off from the news flow entirely. For work I need to know what's happening in financial markets, so I read the free business newspaper (City A.M.) every morning and also get to the Financial Times later in the day as well. I also digest all sorts of trade journals about my particular industry.

But do I need to know about every terrible thing happening in the world? Does it help change things in any way? Would I be more likely to make a difference in this world being a calm, happier person who doesn't dwell on every real-life horror? I hope so. Because that's the particular tack I'm taking at this moment. Not only does reading the daily free papers upset me, but it also takes up precious free time when I could be writing or reading books on my long list, or spending time chatting with friends (here and abroad).

And I still find out about stuff. It's amazing how much people tell you about current events. If you're interested in something in particular you can then go and read about it. Even just reading the Saturday paper once a week will tell you more than you need to know about anything that has happened in the past seven days (if indeed you want to know about it).

'They' say knowledge is power, and it is, but is all knowledge power? And there are always things we'd rather not know. Does idle horrible gossip about friends or co-workers help anyone? I say, when it comes to knowledge, be selective. Pursue what you're interested in, challenge yourself, but don't think you need to know everything that's going on – all knowledge certainly isn't equal.

Related posts (on attempting to avoid some stress):

• Silly Stress
• Success Is Fun But Work Should Be Too
• Email: Channeling Josephine

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Authenticity: Being True But Growing Too

The other day at work I got the news that my desk was to be moved. Not the most tragic of news, or even bad news at all. In fact, I ended up with a great desk, still near the window and near people I like to chat with. All good stuff.

But I still felt weird, what with my overactive fight-flight reflex. I spent a few weeks feeling disoriented. I'm not asking for sympathy here, but just trying to make the point that I knew I was going to feel this way. I've become more aware of myself as I've careened through the ups and downs of adulthood and I know that I'm an anxious person – and part of this is that physical change does affect me. (This might be a good time to read an older blog of mine called Baby 19, where I discuss an ice cream shop touring opportunity I sadly missed at the age of five).

Knowing myself, knowing why I react to things the way I do, knowing what it is I prefer and what I don't like – that's what authenticity means to me. I believe it's about being true to yourself and not trying to be something or someone you're not. Such as trying to avoid situations where you have a boyfriend who surfs and suddenly you need to buy yourself a wet suit.

That said, I'm glad I tried surfing (badly) in the freezing cold water in Ireland. And one of my friends got good use out of the wetsuit during her two-year trip to Australia.

So where does accepting yourself as you are meet pushing yourself to try new things and be someone you never thought you could be? Where is it productive to be true to yourself and where does it harm you?

When you push yourself to do something that you know is tough for you, it gives you a small bit of insight into what life could be like if you weren't so scared or didn't create arbitrary limits. Sometimes it may reinforce your belief that something isn't for you – perhaps you actually don't enjoy it and it shouldn't be a priority. But occasionally, doing something that's a challenge – and even possibly making a fool of yourself – is a great experience to have. It keeps you humble and from taking yourself too seriously.

And that's what authenticity is about. Keeping it real (ha, ha). Knowing who you are but also being open to expanding that definition from time to time. For example, you could move desks every once in a while.

When I moved to London nearly nine years ago it was terrifying and lonely and it took a few years to actually feel like I fit in and that I was part of my adopted country. And although I still don't like pre-made sandwiches, I can complain about the weather like an old pro. More importantly, I learned that I can push myself to do new scary things, in spite of my anxiety. And by living on my edge, I got to know myself pretty well, which in my opinion is what authenticity is about. It's trying to get closer to your truth – whatever it may be.

This post is part of the Self-Discovery, Word by Word series. Katie at Health for the Whole Self kicked it off this month with 'authenticity'. Click here to read more about it or get involved.

Related posts:

• Baby 19
• Gratitude: Pumpkin Pie Mix In England
• Vulnerability: Being Broken Isn't So Bad

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Uncertainty

We live in constant uncertainty. But yet we convince ourselves that isn't true. And perhaps it's our greatest defence mechanism.

I remember once knowing that someone was going to break up with me. He gave me a pretty good indication by writing a letter… but then I had to wait two days before I saw him to find out for sure (I'm not bitter – I understand there's just no nice way to break up with someone). But having an early indication was torture. It was so much worse than just knowing it was going to be over, because there was still that bit of uncertainty. I remember cleaning the flat frantically thinking: at least if he breaks up with me I'll have a clean flat!

There's a fair bit of commentary out there on the link between uncertainty and unhappiness. This Economist blog post shows how humans don't behave rationally when there's substantial uncertainty in their environments.

But what is it about uncertainty that bothers us?

Daniel Gilbert, who is a professor at Harvard University and author of Stumbling on Happiness, wrote in a blog post for the New York Times about this phenomenon. He cited a few instances of research where knowing about something negative was much better than not knowing.

For example, research at the University of British Columbia showed that people who learned they had a very high likelihood of developing the neurodegenerative disorder known as Huntington's disease were happier a year later than those in the study who did not learn what their risk of developing the disease was.

Gilbert says in his post:

Why would we prefer to know the worst than to suspect it? Because when we get bad news we weep for a while, and then get busy making the best of it. We change our behavior, we change our attitudes. We raise our consciousness and lower our standards. We find our bootstraps and tug. But we can’t come to terms with circumstances whose terms we don’t yet know. An uncertain future leaves us stranded in an unhappy present with nothing to do but wait.

I agree, and my own theory is that it's as if our brains are better geared towards solving definite problems than dealing with unknowns. When we don't exactly know what the problem is, or will actually be, it's as if the brain heads off to work and searches to locate it, spinning round in circles like a tire when a car is up on blocks.

And it's very hard to stop. The brain can often act a little like a runaway train, getting faster and more out-of-control. But I think that the best way to regard terrible uncertainty is the way we deal with the rest of the constant uncertainty in our life, including the ultimate one – death – by just not thinking about it.

Am I crazy for saying this? When you're facing very bad uncertainty: the results of a scary medical test, the possible end of a relationship, potential job loss or a missing person – how do you not think about it? The brain is racing and it wants to solve the problem, but guess what, it can't.

Obviously I'm not telling anyone not to do proactive actions about uncertain situations when they can do something. But there are so many situations where all you can do is wait. And it's really hard not to think about something when you're in distress – but we've all had experiences of doing this successfully. Something funny happens and suddenly the worry is gone for a moment. Where did it go? If we can try to extend these time periods, by focusing on the present moment and realizing that there's nothing we can actually do, we can help ourselves and the others around us.

The problem with not being able to deal well with uncertainty is that it's always with us. Sometimes it's worse than other times, but essentially, having a successful coping mechanism for dealing with uncertainty is something that lasts, frankly, for a lifetime.

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On Breathing

I'm not very good at breathing. This may sound strange, because we obviously need to breathe to live. But I often find that I actually hold my breath – or breathe really shallowly – especially when I feel stressed, uneasy or anxious.

The other day I was walking home from the train station and feeling generally icky so I started to try to breathe more deeply. I immediately started to feel better, calmer and more grounded. And then I started to yawn, just like in yoga class after we've done the first breathing exercise. My body suddenly seemed to shake free of the tension I was holding and I felt better – and more human.

Obviously, this all sounds pretty hokey and new-agey, but there is actually something to be said for learning how to breathe well to help with everyday stress. I found a paper written by Patricia L. Gerbarg, M.D., an assistant clinical professor in psychiatry at New York Medical College, where she explains that our stress response system works within the autonomic nervous system consisting of two branches – sympathetic and parasympathetic. The sympathetic nervous system switches on when we feel threatened in a fight or flight scenario, increasing the heart rate, breathing and metabolic rate. When the threat has passed the parasympathetic system's role is to slow down these rates, repair any cellular damage and calm and replenish our energy, according to Gerbarg.

For people under stress or those with chronic anxiety (read more on research that we may be pre-disposed to anxiety, in my post Baby 19), the sympathetic system is in overdrive and the parasympathetic system is underactive. There are many medicines that can temporarily dampen the sympathetic system, however, there really isn't anything available to boost the parasympathetic system.

So that's where breathing techniques and other mind-body practices like meditation and yoga fit in. They are ways to boost the parasympathetic nervous system to keep that pesky sympathetic system in check.

I really like Leo Babuta's blog, called Zen Habits and his post on breathing pretty much says it all: click here to read about the many benefits of breathing. I particularly like the idea that you can always rely on taking a breath whenever something in your life starts to make you feel out of control, it's just so simple that one could really overlook it.

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Baby 19

If there's a way, there's a worry. I wouldn't say I am paralyzed by worry, in fact, it's almost the opposite – I am an extreme worrier, but I do things anyway. But that doesn't mean it's easy.

Here's how I would explain it. No matter how well things are going in my life (and I've been very lucky) I have this low-lying nagging sense that there's something I should be worried about. It's like that horrible feeling that you left the oven on at home. And I often feel like arguing with my brain about it. "Listen brain, why do you insist on thinking there's always something bad right around the corner? Just because that person didn't return your email/phone call/letter doesn't mean it has anything to do with you. Why is it always about you anyway? Can you just relax and enjoy yourself a little?"

So if there's a worry gene, I've definitely got it. Which is why I was incredibly intrigued by an article I read some time ago and forwarded to every anxiety-prone person I know. It details a longitudinal study by a psychology professor at Harvard, Jerome Kagan, to examine whether or not there are people who are predisposed to be anxious. In infancy the participants in the study were observed to see if they were "high-reactors" – essentially whether they freaked out or not when exposed to something new.

The first 18 babies in the study were cool as cucumbers, but Baby 19 became incredibly distressed when she was exposed to new sounds, voices, toys and smells. And the oldest high-reactive subjects in this study, and other studies of the same sort (like Baby 19), are now in their 20s. The article states that "for many of them, no matter how much they manage to avoid looking anxious to an outsider, fears still rattle in their skulls at 3 o’clock in the morning. They remain anxious just below the surface, their subconscious brains still twitchy, still hyper vigilant, still unable to shift attention away from perceived threats that aren’t really there."

This sounded particularly familiar to me. Which got me thinking, was I like Baby 19? I'm sure it would be hard to accurately collect data on whether or not as an infant I freaked out when exposed to new things. In hindsight, people's memories are often very subjective. But there was an incident when I was five years old in kindergarten class. I totally freaked out about a class trip to an ice cream shop. It was a Carvel store (for those New York State readers) and it was one I had been to numerous times with my parents. I remember it distinctly – I was absolutely terrified about going. But I still can't verbalize why. Ice cream really isn't the scariest thing. They had to call my Mom to come get me, but luckily my kindergarten class was actually on the college campus where she was a professor and she knew my teacher pretty well.

Sounds pretty Baby 19-ish to me. As an adult I've dealt with my anxiety in other ways. In fact, I moved countries about eight years ago and despite feeling terrified (and hating it for about the first year) I did it anyway. The article talks about how some people are able to actually harness this nervous energy. I wouldn't say this is true all the time for me – often I find it unharness-able (probably not a word) and something I'd rather not cope with. This is particularly true if I have a lot of free time, which is probably why I make sure I'm pretty busy (which creates other problems). And when I'm busy I like to do things that keep my brain active – to distract it from worrying. Interestingly enough, although some anxious people might find socializing anxiety-inducing, I find it just the opposite. I get to focus on someone else and get outside of my own head.

But the one thing I appreciated most from the article was the fact that it said that maybe this excessive worrying wasn't actually my fault – perhaps I'm pre-disposed. Which was a bit of a relief. Because there's nothing worse than trying not to worry and others around you telling you to chillax, like you mean to be this way. Sometimes it's not that simple.

The article is from the New York Times Magazine, so it's super long, but if you have any interest in the area, or suspect you may be a Baby 19, click here to read it.

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