Successes, Safety and a Salient Staircase 

Sleep was brief, around four hours, but surprisingly restorative. I didn’t have the ‘spoons’ for this morning’s planned soak in the bath but was able to shower thanks to my bath board. It’s a disability aid that I was reluctant to take possession of last year but which is actually worth its weight in gold.

I spent some time menu planning – breakfasts, lunches and dinners – yesterday evening. Having a plan is beneficial on many levels not least in beginning to tackle my eating disorder, promoting self care and maximising my tight budget. Variety, satisfaction and healthy options are key to the former. As I said here, when ‘spoons’ run low cooking so often falls off my to do list. I’m making it a priority as one of my first steps out of this current crisis. Some old favourites will feature on the plan together with some new recipes. Here’s a selection:

  • Baked eggs with mushrooms and spinach 
  • Courgette and potato soup
  • Courgette muffins
  • Chocolate orange porridge 
  • Three bean pate
  • Porridge Berry Bakes
  • Sweet potato wedges with homemade houmous 
  • Mushroom and herb pearl barley risotto 
  • Quesadillas – most likely cheese and bean 
  • Lemon and dill courgette with broccoli rice, houmous & salad

Yes, I did buy a large box of ‘Basics’ mushrooms and large bag of ‘Basics’ courgettes and have been hunting ‘spoonie’ friendly courgette recipes!

Today’s breakfast was an old favourite from the Hairy Dieters – crumpets with warmed berries, fat free Greek yoghurt and a drizzle of honey. 

Lunch was herby mushrooms and tomatoes on toast, followed by a banana.

In case you hadn’t noticed, I don’t eat meat. Dinner was a bowl of the Chilli Non Carne that I made this evening. My recipe varies according to budget and what I’ve got in. This version used the following:

  • 1 large red onion 
  • 1 small red bell pepper
  • 1 small green bell pepper 
  • A handful of mushrooms 
  • A carton of ‘Basics’ chopped tomatoes 
  • A tin of ‘Basics ‘ baked beans 
  • A tin of ‘Basics’ red kidney beans 
  • Tomato puree
  • A cheat’s sachet of chilli seasoning together with my own ‘everyday’ seasoning 
  • A packet of Granose dried soya mince.

I bought several packs of the soya mince while it was on offer and much cheaper than Quorn  or generic chilled varieties. You reconstitute it with boiling water then treat as normal. It does not look appetitising when first made up but tastes good in the finished product! 

I’m really shattered and virtually out of ‘spoons’. Emptying the dishwasher of last night’s load and putting in today’s dishes has to wait until tomorrow. The chilli prep and cooking takes a fair amount of ‘spoons’, and by the time I finish I’m very sore, luckily it will make a few meals. My Fibromyalgia had already rendered me very stiff today, so when I stand up I can’t straighten up at first and have to painfully unfurl pace by slow pace. In these moments I laugh at my predicament to help me to deal with it. 

I’ve just enjoyed watching MasterChef. I do admire the cooking adventures of the participants. I smiled tonight at the appearance of ‘whey-glazed carrots’ … they’re waaaay beyond my culinary ambition! But seriously, if posting photos of your daily meals and basic cooking efforts seems dull or even narcissistic, I can say only that it’s integral to my thrust for recovery. I can’t remember the last time I ate three good meals in a day, let alone made three virtually from scratch. Posting in this way, in celebration of my efforts, is motivating and a useful record of my progress. Perhaps, somewhere along the line, my posts might help someone else too. 

9:50pm I’ve been pyjama’d and under the covers since a little after 8 but I’m determined to complete and publish this post tonight. I’ve had to rewrite half of it after WordPress gobbled it and refused to give it back. I suspect I’ll sleep tonight, but it might be an idea to take painkillers to try to limit the risk of #painsomnia. 

I was able to meet with my advocate this afternoon for the first time in over two months. This is a huge deal. I’ve made many attempts to meet with her since mid February but overwhelming trauma symptoms forced me to cancel each time. She visited me at home together with one of her colleagues, both were so lovely. I had written notes ahead of their arrival. We had a productive meeting  It felt safe, and to feel any sense of safety at all, after the devastating events of last year, is progress. I’ve yet to regain real hope for the future – something I thought couldn’t be shattered, after all I’ve survived so much, but last year’s events broke me – however, I’m focusing on an idea that was once very helpful to me … You don’t have to see the top of the staircase to take the first step. 

My advocate and I have made a plan of initial steps. We’ll speak on Monday and arrange a further meeting. 

 

I’m clean! 

Having changed out of fetid pyjamas, showered and brushed my teeth, I’m back in the realm of daylight and a whiff of fresh air

While I’m happy to be more functioning, the more that I do, be it washing myself, eating, doing chores or whatever, the more  that I’m forced to confront how bad things are for me right now. Uh oh, there goes that guilt again that I spoke of in my last post .. I’m moaning/whining/being pathetic. I should think myself lucky, shut up and get on with it or, at the very least, seek to justify my every thought and action. Ho hum, I’ll try to ignore that.

Yesterday’s second dishwasher load has been unloaded, load number three is on the go and those few items that require handwashing are bathing in hot soapy water. I’ve stripped my bed, organised some paperwork for shredding, rinsed some items for recycling, and dealt with a pile of post.I’ve rested periodically, vital ‘spoonie‘ pacing, to try to avoid crashing and burning. Although, I’m sensing that the more I gather momentum the more I feel an urge to keep going and so resist the need to rest.

I’m now munching on some of last night’s banana loaf. Next I’ll wipe the kitchen work surfaces, do a quick swish and swipe in the bathroom and remake my bed, …then I’ll flop for a bit with BBC Radio iPlayer.

Thursday into Friday 

Good morning 🙂 

I’m feeling positively breezy this morning but I think I may finally have learned not to get swept along by my need to be positive, and to understand that my current ‘breezy’ is a long way from the ‘breezy norm’. 

Any improvement, however slight, on being locked into the fog of dissociation with only terror and desolation for company is wondrous. That ‘wondrousness’ is  a bit of blighter actually because it can leave me feeling guilty, that things are not so bad after all and that I certainly ought not to be requiring, or even less, seeking any help. 

I grew up believing that I wasn’t suffering at all, despite experiencing appalling trauma and abuse. I notice that as I wrote those words I felt a twinge of guilt that made me cringe. Was it really so appalling? Am I exaggerating? I say that as someone who aged nine witnessed one parent actually trying to murder the other and, while still a child, lost a parent to suicide on my birthday. Those are but two of many more examples that I could give. 

I grew up with that belief partly because these events were given no more significance than a broken fingernail in terms of their impact on me, by those around me. It was also drummed into me that I had it so good and that there were so many people in the world worse off than me. Consequently, I can struggle with the distorted perception that if someone, anyone, is worse off than me then I am not struggling/suffering/in need and should just ‘get on with it’. 

Yesterday, I made and ate a plain omelette,  ran two dishwasher loads – making a sizeable dent in the accumulated kitchen ‘crisis detritus’ – ate some kidney beans with tomato, black pepper and cumin, and, when late yesterday evening hunger was still a problem but food was scarce, a bashed together a banana loaf which, despite being missing a couple of ingredients, turned out to be my tastiest yet. 

I also took the huge step of introducing my oldest friend to this blog, *waves hello to her*, and thoroughly enjoyed watching the final of the Great Pottery Throwdown. Although, I’ll be experiencing withdrawal symptoms now it and the Great Big Painting Challenge have both concluded this week! 

Today I will be focused on cleaning myself up (a far greater task than it may sound) and receiving a supermarket delivery of some groceries this evening. I hope to work on a significant blog post. It may prove challenging to compose but I believe the benefits of doing so will outweigh the challenges. 

Daylight and a whiff of fresh air

It’s 6pm. I’m sprawled on my bed, tapping this out on my phone, squinting because I’m tired and I’m not wearing my specs. 

I’m feeling sore (meaning in this case in pain rather than angry or grumpy, should I happen to have any American readers :)) but I’m also feeling accomplished.

And here I relent, shift myself to close my bedroom window and the window blind, before putting on a light and then donning my specs after cleaning them. 

It’s not easy to type a blog post on a phone when you need to hold said phone at arm’s length to prevent the text from becoming blurry. I really need to visit my optician. I was due to have an eye test last June but have put it off because for now I can’t afford to buy a new pair of glasses.

Still, I digress, I’m feeling accomplished because I’ve had a productive day … although perhaps not what many people would consider all that productive or fruitful.

I spent an hour detangling my dirty matted hair; cleaned my teeth and took a shower for the first time in a fortnight, before getting dressed.I stripped my bed and threw open the bedroom window, giving me my first clear sight of daylight and.hint of fresh air in two weeks.

I liberated my kitchen from under the detritus strewn worktops by way of three dishwasher loads, a sinkful of dishes, and much wiping and tidying. 

With seven extremely brown bananas begging not to be wasted, I baked a quick batch of banana and oat bars using four of them (I’ll make a banana loaf tomorrow to use up the rest), four cups of organic porridge oats and eight tablespoons of milk. They make a healthy snack. They’re pretty irregular in size, today was not a day for perfectionism! BBC Radio 4 was a very welcome companion, particularly the engrossing Resistance by Val McDermid.

I cleared and dealt with the mound of mail piled behind my flat door, and organised a batch of recyclables.

I composed and sent vital emails to my physiotherapist and a local advocacy service. I’ve crunched my way through  a bowl of cornflakes, quaffed a very large mug of tea, and scoffed a couple of the banana oat bars. I’ve blogged … twice!

I am very tidy and very organised and other people often describe my home as immaculate. I care about and take care over my appearance. I’m also resourceful, driven and very self motivated. Exceptional circumstances left me unable to take care of myself or my home in recent weeks. Whatever you might imagine, I doubt that you could guess correctly … 

And on that thrilling cliffhamger, for now I must stop writing for the sake of my increasing pain levels, and your attention span ;), and I must remake my bed before I seize up entirely! 

See you anon … 

I am awake and content to be so. 

I’ve woken this morning, for the first time in many days, without the feeling that I can’t bear to be awake.

This morning I did not so desperately clamour to again escape into sleep that I forced myself away from wakefulness and into a half sleep, punctuated by nightmares of the darkest variety. 

This is progress.

***** N.B. Hello again dear readers. It’s been a while since I posted, and there is quite a story a tell. It would be too large a task to try to bring you up to date all at once, and it would certainly overwhelm me, and perhaps you too. With that in mind, I’m going to do as a middle-aged American woman, with a passion for fly-fishing and a plethora of strategies for overcoming the overwhelming, once told me … don’t try to catch up, just jump in where you are. I trust that in doing  this the fuller story will, in time, unfold. This is likely to be one of many ‘bite-sized dispatches’. In the meantime, I’ll just say that it feels good to be back and that I hope you’ll encourage me in my quest to post regularly. *****

I did it! 

I really enjoyed it.

I’m glad I pushed myself (hard) to go. I look forward to next month’s. 

I’m tired now but triumphant. There are many more challenges ahead this week … let’s hope I’m on a roll :). 

A footnote on mindfulness … or ‘being in the moment’

How many of us don’t at some point feel worried about the future or dwell on some element of our past?

And yet the past, while it may influence our present, is utterly unalterable. Our actions in the present may yield future favour, but we cannot predict the future.

All any of us has is the present … to be lived, as far as possible, moment by moment.

I’m finding that difficult right now, because I don’t know how I’m going to pay the rent this month, but let’s face it … worry isn’t going to pay it! I could get hit by the proverbial bus tomorrow. It could be curtains. I may never need to make that rent payment.

I don’t have a death wish right now so let’s work on the premise that I will see the end of the month. I can’t magically erase my money problems but I can boost my ability to deal with them. 

Mindfulness can help. Some find it easy to ‘live in the moment’, others find it more difficult to achieve. It takes practice. Even, as I discovered when I first tried it, just 10 minutes a day can make a difference … lowering stress levels … calming a busy mind … providing much needed breathing space. 

Mindfulness is not a panacea for trauma nor even a cure-all for everyday ills, but, for me at least, the benefits on offer are worth the effort I must put in to my practice. It’s worth noting that it is an effort but not a strain, and that there is a difference. 

And with that, I think I’ve just got myself a mantra of the moment, something to help me to curb the hyper-drive tendency and make peace of mind rather more tangible than nebulous. 

Effort Not Strain 

 

Asking for help in a crisis … or not!

I spent the majority of 2015 ‘in crisis’. Between May and December I experienced my most severe depressive episode in a decade. It took me right off my feet, for the most part left me entirely incapacitated, and ultimately at risk of dying. CRISISI only began to recover in the days leading up to Christmas. January saw steady improvement in my mood. I was thrilled to find myself alive, having been convinced that I wouldn’t see Christmas because I had to die. I had hope again and, for the first time in my life, reliable, consistent support – which was to prove life-changing and to allow the final pieces of my life and self recovery puzzle to begin to fall into place.

February was rather more of a roller coaster of mood. I panicked as I first felt my mood decline, terrified of the depression taking hold and fearing I would be trapped in it again for months, or even years as I once had been. Depression can be paralysing.

Late last year, on a day when I was able to harness some capacity, I arranged to visit the local crisis centre – a voluntary sector project – to obtain support to build a crisis plan. It was a helpful appointment – my plan involved strengthening my fledgling support network and reaching out to speak to a worker at the crisis centre. The latter can be contacted by text, email or call … 24/7. A follow up appointment may then also be made for the client to visit the centre over the course of the next two days or a follow up call may be made to the client the next day, if more support is needed. It’s a good service. There is only limited provision of a similar type throughout the UK, certainly nowhere near enough to meet demand. Commonly, someone experiencing a mental health crisis, certainly outside of ‘office hours’, is likely to find attending A&E, where resources are stretched and often not geared to mental health, is their only option.

I feel enormously grateful that I now have access to appropriate crisis support. I experienced a four year period of serious mental illness some years ago. There was no specialist crisis support where I lived at that time, only an out of hours GP service that was stretched and, I’m afraid, in no way sympathetic to mental health difficulties. Telephone helplines, such as those offered by the Samaritans, SANE, Breathing Space (Scotland) and Supportline, although helpful, were no substitute for the services that are now available to me in a new area. I believe everyone experiencing mental health crisis has a right to the best, free care – 24/7. We are some way from making that a reality.

So, what is a mental health crisis? If you’ve had one you’ll certainly know about it; they are far from fun. Like those who experience them, they are varied and individual. A crisis might involve psychosis. For the uninitiated, that’s not where one wields an axe and becomes a killer as media depictions might suggest, but rather where a person’s perception of reality becomes mildly, moderately or severely distorted. Read more here. I thank my lucky stars that I haven’t had to experience it and have much respect for those who do. They’re not ‘loony’, ‘psycho’ or ‘sick’, but experiencing the symptoms of illness. They are as deserving of respect and care as anyone experiencing serious illness. A crisis might involve suicidal feelings, ideation and plans. Equally a crisis might involve loneliness, despair, fear or anxiety, impeding a person’s ability to cope or function.

For me, crisis is feeling suicidal, whether those feelings progress to planning to end my life or not, I don’t want to feel suicidal. As far as humanly possible, I want to avoid slipping that far.

Crisis prevention care is as vital as in-crisis care.

The increasingly stretched NHS is, in mental health terms, generally reactive rather than preventative, as limited funds mean limited resources and so limited capacity. In-crisis care is often woefully inadequate, crisis prevention nigh on non-existent. I was only able to access the support I needed when I was deeply in crisis, even after months of crying out to my GP for help with my rapidly worsening depression and suicidal ideation. The attitude was very much one of not to worry, you’ll be fine. When I described finding myself assessing elements of my home as means to end my life, my GP said that was OK, so long as I didn’t act on those thoughts.

No support was put in place to ensure that I didn’t act on them or to help manage and indeed, reduce those thoughts. Only when a friend, sensing that a suicide attempt may well be imminent, telephoned my GP surgery insisting they take action, did appropriate mental health support begin to materialise. My friend (at the time working away from home and 500 miles from the city where we both live) was correct in her assumption and may well have saved my life by at first listening, by continuing to listen until she was able to understand, and, once she did, by taking prompt and appropriate action.

Aside from a lack of appropriate sources of support, the symptoms of mental illness may themselves impede access to support. In recent months, despite having confidence in my local crisis centre (at least my ‘logical brain’ does) and having received much encouragement to seek support from it and other sources, such as my GP and my housing support officer, I have been unable to do so while in crisis or once I begin the slide towards crisis. This is because my depression rather has its own mind and it’s not supportive of my well-being, darn thing that it is! Depression makes me believe that I’m a burden and that no one can or will help me. That’s not what you need to be thinking when you need to reach out for support to manage your illness. You see my dilemma. I don’t feel that way unless I’m in the grip of depressive illness. That at least allows me to continue to devise and revise techniques to circumvent the obstacles to support.

I have made progress.

In February, with encouragement from my housing support officer, I was able to contact the crisis centre as my mood began to rise after a frightening few days of persistent low mood – although not so low as to ignite suicidal ideation. The contact helped strengthen my capacity to recover and continue to move forward. I was able to arrange to visit the centre two days later, in order to discuss my difficulty in reaching out as a mood slide or other crisis trigger occurs. This proved to be enormously helpful. I found my own answers, but having the time and space to discuss my feelings and thoughts around the problem with a crisis worker, is what enabled me to do so.

I realised that I had not been able to engage with either my crisis plan or my crisis/comfort box, despite working so hard to establish them to support me. In conversation with the crisis centre worker, I realised that I had been treating both plan and box as pariahs.

They reminded me of being in severe crisis – a terrible place to which I never again wanted to return – and so I shunned them.

I resolved to rename my crisis plan a rather more cosy support plan and to drop the word crisis from the comfort box. I also made a new, larger box and reworked the contents – a few of which are shown below. It includes, but is not limited to, the following.

  • Items for relaxation – such as a stress toy, herbal tea bags, a relaxation audio, a book and postcards to colour.
  • Photo frames to fill with images of the few who stood by me last year and remind me of the hope and support they offer me.
  • A soapstone heart and fluffy bunny – both tactile – to aid  grounding techniques.
  • Assorted toys and other items from my free and brilliant  Little Box of Distractions to occupy and distract a stressed mind are also in there.

Someofthecontentsofmycomfort box

For the first time I feel confident about accessing appropriate support when I need it – in the form of contacting a supportive friend, the crisis centre or a specialist helpline, whichever is most appropriate in the circumstances. I am somewhat less confident about accessing crisis prevention or in-crisis support from the NHS because of it’s failure to support me in the past and because of the limitations I know have been forced upon it.

Last week a mood slide was triggered by the unexpected discovery of a psychiatrist’s report from more than a decade ago. It details my poor mental state in the immediate aftermath of my disclosure of the physical and psychological abuse I’d experienced in childhood and beyond. I had some horrendous experiences within the NHS in those days, the worst when I was verbally abused by a GP, who went on to admit his wrongdoing but which was subsequently covered up and I was hounded from the practice. A mental health charity backed me but said that without family, a supportive partner or friends to stand and fight with me, I had zero chance of redress.

I still fear being that vulnerable again and know I have still work to do to recover from it. My current GP who, since my friend acted, has improved her support and so has been slowly gaining my trust – the first to do so since that event 11 years ago – is leaving the practice next month. Starting anew with another GP will challenge me, but must be done.

Faced with this triggered mood slide and associated flashbacks and anxieties, I did not panic and so trigger a further slide (well, OK, I did a teensy bit). I calmly and mindfully worked to ground myself, helping to stabilise me, and reached out to friends, Twitter friends and the crisis centre to obtain the support I needed to begin to recover my mood and confidence.

HappyThoughtsJar

How I felt when I achieved this (delighted) is described on a sticky note held within the jar pictured above. It was made for me last month by that super friend. Her intention is that the happy thoughts collected within it can also help to comfort me at more difficult times.

Feeling normal, embracing normal …

I doubt I’m alone among survivors of abuse and people who’ve experienced mental illness in having wondered whether I’d ever feel normal again.

I think the word normal is actually of limited relevance when considering ourselves and each other. After all, what is normal? Here’s one definition:

Normal (adjective) conforming to a standard; usual, typical, or expected.

We do tend to prefer normal, particularly when it comes to people. Dealing with those whose behaviour is usual, typical or as we expect – that’s our comfort zone. The unusual, the atypical, the unexpected, can be unwelcome, even alarming.

AreYouNormalSpeechBubble

Many of us do celebrate difference and embrace diversity. At the same time, prejudice and intolerance not only exist but are rife in some situations, invariably born out of a mixture of ignorance and fear. Ignorance here not rudeness, but a lack of knowledge. The fear born out of a lack of understanding leading to a unwillingness to tolerate or accept.

Having a mental illness or other disability can see you popped straight into the box marked ‘not normal’.

TheNotNormalBox

Some of us really love putting others into boxes and have trouble thinking ‘outside the box’. If you yourself think that way, it can get a bit lonely!

The ability to pass as ‘normal’ can help you to be accepted or at least tolerated. I’m quite good at pulling off the appearance of a functioning human while actually finding life quite difficult. I’d never have guessed you were .. a depressive/anxious/sometimes struggle with social confidence/have been abused – is a familiar refrain. I’ve chosen not to wear a label around my neck declaring my impairments for all to see. I tend not to define myself in terms of them. I am not ‘a depressive’; I do have a history of living with the illness Depression. I do not want to live in the box marked depression, or any other box for that matter. I have a toe, a finger, a memory, a passion, in very many diverse boxes.

I’m tidy and organised. I love theatre, books, coffee shops and tea rooms, charity shops and second hand sales. I’m positive and enthusiastic. I was abused in childhood and beyond and the effects of that on me and my life have been profound and far-reaching. I lost a parent to suicide and I’ve survived an attempt to take my own life. I live with a number of health conditions – they are mostly invisible but have a not inconsiderable effect on my life. I don’t have children. I don’t have contact with my family. I have some issues with eating, I continue to work to overcome them. I like scarves and earrings. I love recycling and reusing. I adore words and writing! I like public speaking. I love arts and crafts. I’m driven and ambitious. I’m compassionate and sensitive. I can be very chatty.

All that, and more, is my normal. It may not be yours, but it is mine, and proudly so.

One day recently, I found myself feeling of normal mood. That’s what prompted me to write this post. You see I haven’t felt terribly happy about being in a ‘normal mood’.

I’d like to feel happy, hopeful and free to such an extent that I catch myself smiling often, even laughing, at the sheer joy of it. I felt like that for more than three days in a row last week! This was a new feeling for me. I sensed that, in the midst of my fifth decade, I am at last learning what is to feel free, even safe. I realised that I am finally beginning to thrive.

I wanted to always feel so bright and such delight, but my mood began to slide after an unexpected confrontation with a terribly traumatic period of my life. It came in the form of a psychiatrist’s report on my mental state in the period immediately following my disclosure of childhood abuse, found while organising paperwork.

I encouraged myself not to panic about the decline in mood and confidence I was experiencing; I’ve learned that doesn’t help and that, in fact, it’s likely to make things worse. I calmly and mindfully took care of myself and took steps to reach out for some additional support… slowly my mood and confidence levels rose. They didn’t again reach the heights, but settled somewhere around OK, I suppose. I was not thrilled about that.

After years of work to recover myself and my life, learning to love and accept myself and processing the trauma I experienced, I can now celebrate my own brand of normal – with all of the quirks and imperfections that entails. I can learn to live with normal, rather more mundane, mood states. I may even learn to celebrate those too. Sheer joy and jubilation is wonderful to experience, but who gets to feel like that all the time? It seems impossible that I could ever tire of such joy and freedom, having finally found it, but if I had it for always perhaps I would.

Embracing the mundane mood may seem dull but it is normal. Everyone has ups and downs in life and of mood. It isn’t normal to be so depressed that you feel you have to die, as I felt when so very ill for many months last year. Today I’m not depressed, neither I am a fountain of joy, but I am OK, and I’m coming to realise that that’s actually a pretty good state of being.

Sound Asleep Secrets

Latest newswire: Mangled earphones are a thing of the past!

I heard mention of a ‘sound pillow’ on last week’s episode of the BBC2 TV series Trust Me I’m a Doctor. Instead of looking puzzled, as is often the way, I thought to myself … ooh, I’ve got one of those! I recovered it from the bottom of my wardrobe where I’d put it for safe keeping until I had time to try it out. I’d received it as a gift more than a year ago, but at the time my head was too full and life too frantic for me to have given it more than a cursory glance. Within five minutes yesterday I had it up, running and tested. I hadn’t realised it would be so easy.

If you follow me on Twitter (@heartsetonlivin) you might have seen me bemoaning the fact that I’d mangled not one but two pairs of earphones by listening to audio books in bed. I find it so soothing that I’m lulled to sleep. I then crush an earphone by accidentally sleeping on it! In a matter of weeks I’ve managed to ruin one set in its entirety and had been limping on in mono with Exhibit A …

mangledearphones
Exhibit A: One mangled earphone

My woes prompted sympathy … and some good-natured teasing … from Twitter pals.

LongJohnHill mangled earphones graphic

So, what is a sound pillow and would I buy one?
It’s a pillow with a speaker inside it, and a cable on the side to be plugged into a smartphone, tablet or mp3 player. I have this one. I think it was purchased using an Internet deal and so may be available elsewhere for less than the advertised price.

Set up is a doddle, just plug and go. I use mine with my Samsung Galaxy Tab 2 tablet, because that’s what I happen to have. I have audio books and my favourite sleep meditation loaded on to it, and I’m also able to listen to the radio or music via wifi.

Sleep can be a challenge if you’re a #spoonie. Pain, anxiety, depression can all take their toll, and that’s just for starters. My recent episode of serious illness brought with it catastrophic sleep disruption. As my mood began to recover, I decided to revisit some favourite audio books, in the hope they’d help me to relax and also distract my mind from anxious rumination.

It works*, I’m pleased to say, and so does the sound pillow!  I used it last night and happily fell asleep while listening. I found I had to play the tracks more loudly than I would if using earphones, but that’s no hardship. I’m lucky enough to now have a king-size bed to myself. Largely sleeping on one side, I tuck the tablet under the pillow on the other.

Using the sound pillow felt a little odd at first, but only because I’d become used to ‘in ear sound’ that, for the most part, moved with me when I moved. I soon adjusted, and found the best pillow spots for optimum listening. Once settled, I didn’t have to faff about with earphones or worry that my remaining one would be crushed. I have both a padded pillow protector and a normal pillowcase over my sound pillow. I didn’t find the sound to be obstructed in any way. I did have to adjust to being able to hear some ambient noise, previously blocked out by earphones, but this wasn’t a great problem.

If I had the cash and hadn’t received one as a gift, I think I would be tempted to buy a sound pillow. I am a new user, so I can’t yet report on its longevity potential.

*If I’m in need of additional distraction, I will play ‘Snake’ (remember that?!) on my mobile phone. I had to abandon my smart phone last year because I was skint and I’m using a basic old phone on loan from my friend. Anxiety is no match for Harry Potter audio books, read rather marvellously by Stephen Fry, combined with a few rounds of ‘fruit gobbling Snake game play’, I can tell you!

Alas, I haven’t yet found a way to combat sudden, unplanned waking, due to medication side effects, pain, nightmares or other irritation, but I live in hope … 🙂 .

N.B I have NOT been paid for this review.
This not a sponsored blog, nor do I want it to be. There are probably similar products on the market. I have chosen to review this product because I was given one as a gift by a friend, and because I think it may appeal to readers of this blog.