Posted on March 13, 2021
As of today, I have been self isolating for a whole year. 365 days. In that time, I’ve probably left the house no more than twenty times: for one morning of work (that had to be done out while the rest I’ve been able to do from home), for medical appointments, for swimming/hydrotherapy. And a haircut (when my Trichotillomania was particularly bad) during a period when it was considered safe to have one. But other than that, as a vulnerable person, I’ve stayed home. I worked out the numbers and that means I’ve spent 95% of the last year in my house. I look at that number and it kind of blows my mind. I’ve always been a homebody but this is so not the same thing.
So, to acknowledge the occasion, I thought I’d make a post about it. I thought about doing a list of good things and bad things, but given that the year has been dominated by the pandemic, that just felt wrong. Like, in general, it feels like the bad things carry so much more weight; a list like that just didn’t feel like an appropriate way to look at the last year. So, instead I thought I’d make a list of some of the things I’ve learned this year. There have been so many new experiences, new approaches to everyday tasks, new thoughts, new emotions, and so on. So I thought that might be a better way of looking at things. I doubt I’ll remember everything but I’ll give it a go.
As I said, I’m sure there are more things that I’ve learned during this time but I think that these are all of the big ones, the big, personal ones. I’m included in the group currently being vaccinated (although I’ve yet to hear anything) so maybe I will be heading out a little more often once that happens, if only to get some more exercise. But to be honest, given how this last year has affected my mental health, I don’t think I’m going to be exactly quick to adjust to the idea that things are somewhat safer (the government certainly seems to think so, what with their plan to come out of lockdown). As desperate as I am to see my friends and family again and get back to swimming again, I don’t think I’m going to feel safe again for a long time: as I said, I don’t cope well with change.
Category: about me, anxiety, autism, body image, covid-19 pandemic, diagnosis, emotions, life lessons, mental health, music, therapy, treatment, trichotillomania, university Tagged: adjustment, asd, autism, autism spectrum disorder, autistic, autistic adult, change, community, coronavirus, covid-19, covid-19 vaccine, diagnoses, diagnosis, essential workers, family, fear, friends, friendship, frontline workers, grateful, gratitude, hand sanitiser, health, helping, independent artist, learning, lessons, lessons learned, lockdown, mental health, mental health in lockdown, multiple diagnoses, online classes, online learning, online study, online therapy, online university, pandemic, pandemic 2020, planning, remote therapy, remote writing session, routine, self isolating, sensory, society, structure, swimming, therapy, uncertainty, unity, unsigned artist, vaccine
Posted on January 16, 2021
There’s something about new year that always makes me feel hopeful.
I think that many of us move through life as if it’s a story but in reality, there aren’t many clear endings and beginnings and so we often have to create them for ourselves. They help us make sense of things; there’s something helpful and healing about being able to put a difficult chapter behind you and start fresh. 2020 was a lot so I think it’s been good for a lot of us to create some mental distance from all that happened even though 2021 has already had some previously unimaginable moments.
As the events in Washinton D.C. have shown, we have no way of knowing, of course, whether things will be better, of knowing what is to come, but I still have to have hope for the next twelve months, for the future. I think that’s probably one of the most powerful tools we have in general, but also specifically in this period of time: the ability to have hope, even when what we’re facing feels so big and so insurmountable. If nothing else, there is always hope, something that these quotes remind me of.
“Hope begins in the dark, the stubborn hope that if you just show up and try to do the right thing, the dawn will come.” – Anne Lamott
“Hope is a choice of courage.” – Terri Guillemets
“The future is always beginning now.” – Mark Strand
“You can’t wring your hands and roll up your sleeves at the same time.” – Pat Schroeder
“People are made of flesh and blood and a miracle fibre called courage.” – Mignon McLaughlin
“But all I could think of was how when nothing made sense and hadn’t for ages, you just have to grab onto anything you feel sure of.” – Sarah Dessen
“Hope never abandons you, you abandon it.” – George Weinberg
“Tomorrow is fresh, with no mistakes in it.” – L.M. Montgomery
“Keep a little fire burning; however small, however hidden.” – Cormac McCarthy
“While the heart beats, hope lingers.” – Alison Croggon
“We have always held to the hope, the belief, the conviction that there is a better life, a better world, beyond the horizon.” – Franklin D. Roosevelt
“Hope rises like a phoenix from the ashes of shattered dreams.” – S.A. Sachs
“Learn from yesterday, live for today, hope for tomorrow. The important thing is not to stop questioning.” – Albert Einstein
“The present is the laboratory of the future.” – James Lendall Basford
“When you’re at the end of your rope, tie a knot and hold on.” – Theodore Roosevelt
“They say a person needs just three things to be truly happy in this world: someone to love, something to do, and something to hope for.” – Tom Bodett
“Where there is no hope, it is incumbent on us to invent it.” – Albert Camus
“The best way to not feel hopeless is to get up and do something. Don’t wait for good things to happen to you. If you go out and make some good things happen, you will fill the world with hope, you will fill yourself with hope.” – Barack Obama
“We need hope, or else we cannot endure.” – Sarah J. Maas
“There is a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in.” – Leonard Cohen
“The birds of hope are everywhere – listen to them sing.” – Terri Guillemets
“And in today already walks tomorrow.” – Samuel Taylor Coleridge
“May your choices reflect your hopes, not your fears.” – Nelson Mandela
“Hope was tricky like water. Somehow it always found a way in.” – Leigh Bardugo
“Hope is a force of nature. Don’t let anyone tell you different.” – Jim Butcher
“There is hope, even when your brain tells you there isn’t.” – John Green
“Sometimes good things fall apart, so better things can fall together.” – Marylin Monroe
“Let your hopes, not your hurts, shape your future.” – Robert H. Schuller
“Hope is the silver lining of dreams.” – Terri Guillemets
“Once you choose hope, anything’s possible.” – Christopher Reeve
I hope that reading these has given you some hope, just like they’ve given me. As I said, none of us can say for sure whether this year will be better than the last but we have to have hope. And we have reason to hope: Trump is leaving and Biden will be inaugurated; the COVID-19 vaccine is being administered around the world; people have come together, both in the wider sense and in the smaller, more local sense, something that will hopefully continue; the new year is an opportunity for a fresh start… And those are the most obvious things. 2020 was a year unlike any other most of us have experienced and I have to hope that 2021 will be better. I don’t think I – we – have any other choice.
Posted on July 18, 2020
On Monday, for the first time in over a hundred days, I left my house.
I was already self isolating when the UK lockdown went into effect. My university classes had moved online, I have friends and family that I could put at risk if I caught the virus, and it generally seemed like the safest, most socially responsible thing to do. Then the lockdown was officially put in place and it was me and my Mum in the house together. Struggling with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, I don’t go out a whole lot because I physically can’t manage it but I had previously had university classes, seeing friends and family, and swimming at the gym (the only exercise that doesn’t cause me physical pain – probably because it’s non weight-bearing), all of which were suddenly gone. My Mum went out only to food shop and pick up medication prescriptions as necessary.
I’ve only been out once since then and that was to rescue my kitten who got stuck up a tree in a neighbour’s garden – we think she’d been up there for more than twelve hours. And when we did go to get her, all involved socially distanced and wore masks. It was stressful in the face of the virus but my kitten would not come down by herself and we were all getting really worried about her.
Ever since then, I’ve stayed in the house. My mental health has been a monumental struggle during this time, especially my anxiety – to the point that something as simple as laughing from outside or looking through the window at the street can cause severe anxiety and autistic meltdowns. And the longer this goes on, the worse it’s getting. I’m in contact with my psychiatrist, taking my medication, and having online sessions with my therapist but I don’t feel like it’s making much difference to my anxiety.
The easing of lockdown only increased my anxiety. With the scientists and Public Health England still warning of the dangers of Covid, it seemed (and still seems) incredibly irresponsible of the government to be making such changes. When it was announced that hairdressers would be opening on the 4th July, my anxiety sky-rocketed. Ever since the pandemic began moving into Europe, my Trichotillomania has escalated dramatically. It’s been a problem for years but with the recent extreme levels of stress, I’m now pulling my hair out more than I ever have. It’s not only causing pain in my scalp and damage to my hair, it’s also causing terrible pain in the fingers, hand, arm, and shoulder on the side I pull from, as well as tingling and numbness that often doesn’t pass for most of the day. So while I did, of course, want a hair cut (as I think everyone did), I was also desperate for advice and help with this problem. Plus, I go to an independent hairdresser and wanted to support them.
But despite all of that, I just as desperately didn’t want to go. Even with the all the strict safety measures they’d informed their clients of, I still felt overwhelmingly unsafe going out, especially into town. To make it feel more possible, we spoke to them and they arranged my appointment to be as stress free as they could possibly make it: we cancelled the colour to reduce my time there (it felt unnecessary as it was something I could do at home – I’d booked it way back when when it had looked like it would be (or feel) safer, they scheduled my appointment first thing on a Monday morning so the environment would be as clean and safe as possible, and they were happy to have my Mum come with me in case my anxiety got too bad. When we made those arrangements, it felt as good as I thought it was ever going to and we moved on, the appointment still a few weeks away.
But as it got closer, my anxiety grew and grew until I was having panic attacks over it. I didn’t want to go. I really, really didn’t want to go. It felt so unsafe to be going out, even with a mask, gloves, hand sanitiser, and safety measures in place. I didn’t want to go. The anxiety was unbearable and I had multiple awful panic attacks.
In the end, my anxiety just wiped me of all my energy and on the morning of the appointment, I just didn’t know what to do. I had nothing left. So Mum took over, got me up, and took me to the appointment. Even being outside felt terrifying: I felt so unsafe and exposed and vulnerable. We got there and the hairdressers was almost empty, as planned, and my hairdresser was as lovely as always. I’ve been camouflaging my Autism and my anxiety for so long – I’ve spent my life building a mask to help me manage in difficult situations, something that I want to write about more in the future – that most people see the ‘usual’ me but in reality, I was so anxious that I felt like I couldn’t breathe properly (and that had nothing to do with the facemask). I almost destroyed the fidget toy I’d brought with me and the whole experience was just exhausting. It felt like it only added to the trauma of the pandemic and lockdown.
(I do want to make it absolutely clear that that has nothing to do with them as people or a business. It was all about going out and feeling so unsafe outside my house.)
My hairdresser is awesome and so lovely and we had a good conversation about the condition of my hair and the textures that trigger my pulling. We talked about what might improve the condition of my hair and therefore lessen the textures that trigger me, which products might be helpful. So we’ll see how that goes. And simply cutting off the dry ends of my hair will hopefully help with the pulling too.
We were there less than an hour but I was completely exhausted. I was barely functional all day and ended up falling asleep on the sofa at about 10pm, hours earlier than I usually get to sleep at the moment. And it’s taken days to regain enough energy to concentrate and actually do things again. Even now I’m not sure whether I made the right choice or the safest choice but it’s done and I can’t go back and change it. Several people have said to me that going out would make going out again easier but if anything, it’s made it feel even scarier so, for the moment at least, I’m not going anywhere.
The next challenge, I guess, is when gyms reopen. As swimming is the only non-painful exercise I can do, my exercise has been severely limited during lockdown and on a personal level, I’m desperate to get back to it. I love it, I miss it, and I miss how it makes me feel, physically and mentally. But I just can’t imagine how on earth it can be safe. So there’s a lot of investigating to do, a lot of thinking and weighing the pros and cons to do. I’ve never been so jealous of people having their own private pools.
Category: covid-19 pandemic, emotions, mental health, trichotillomania Tagged: actuallyautistic, anti anxiety medication, anxiety, anxiety disorder, asd, autism, autism spectrum disorder, autistic, autistic meltdown, autistic meltdowns, cat, cfs, chronic fatigue, chronic fatigue syndrome, coronavirus, covid-19, easing lockdown, easing of lockdown, energy, exercise, fatigue, fear, gym, hair, hair pulling, haircut, hairdressers, independent business, kitten, lockdown, mask, masks, me, medication, meltdown, meltdowns, mental illness, pain, pandemic, panic attack, panic attacks, phases of lockdown, psychiatrist, risk, salon, self isolating, shielding, social distancing, swimming, therapist, therapy, trich, trigger, trigger warning, triggers
Hi! I’m Lauren Alex Hooper. Welcome to my little blog! I write about living with Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD), ADHD (Inattentive Type), and Hypermobile Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome (hEDS), as well as several mental health issues.
I’m a singer-songwriter (it’s my biggest special interest and I have both a BA and MA in songwriting) so I’ll probably write a bit about that too.
My first single, ‘Invisible,’ is on all platforms, with all proceeds going to Young Minds.
My debut EP, Honest, is available on all platforms, with a limited physical run at Resident Music in Brighton.
I’m currently working on an album about my experiences as an autistic woman.