Some Social Media Favourites

Lately I’ve been seeing a lot of articles and blog posts about unplugging from technology and practising being present and living in the ‘real world.’ I’m not anti doing this. If you think it’s healthier for you to spend less time on social media and have or are taking the steps to do that, then that’s great. Figuring out ways to take care of yourself is always a positive thing. But I find it so irritating when people act as though social media is the enemy of mental health and self care because it’s just not that simple. It has its flaws, of course, but I think its value to those struggling with difficulties like depression and anxiety and so on (there are obviously more but these are the ones I feel qualified to talk about) can get overlooked. It allows us to connect in the middle of something that is incredibly isolating and that is invaluable. It can be life saving.

These are some of the accounts that bring me joy or help me when I’m struggling…

INSTAGRAM

Matt Haig – While I did struggle a bit with ‘Reasons To Stay Alive,’ I really respect Matt Haig and love his presence online. His posts range from moving to funny to encouraging. This is one that particularly spoke to me:

Behindthescars_ – I’ve written a post about Behind The Scars, a photography project set up by Sophie Mayanne (you can find that post here). Seeing people be their authentic selves and find new strength is really amazing and inspiring.

JuniperFoxx – As a kid, I LOVED animals and I daydreamed about having a pet fox so I absolutely love this account. It makes my day to see a new photo or video of these gorgeous creatures.

Laura Greenway – Laura is an incredible artist and I feel very lucky to call her a friend. She makes beautiful, thought provoking pieces to raise awareness and reduce stigma around mental illness. I love pretty much everything she makes but this one is a particular favourite and I was so sad not to experience it first hand:

View this post on Instagram

Really really hard to get a good photo of this, it’s more of a piece that you need to see in person, but today I installed my newest piece of work entitled ‘Baggage’ as part of my current residency at THAT Gallery Basingstoke! A little different from my usual, this piece employs the audience as the performer, encouraging you to walk amongst the 80 tags that hang from the ceiling and be surrounded by my own thoughts. The piece explores intrusive thoughts, and features a variety of day to day intrusions that I suffer with. A huge thank you to my amazing art team @mattglenart and @corvidaecrochet who helped for the best part of 4 and a half hours to install this piece. #art #artist #artwork #contemporaryperformance #fineart #modernart #contemporaryart #conceptualart #performanceart #mentalhealthart #mentalillness #mentalhealthawareness #anxiety #intrusivethoughts #automaticwriting #textart #writing #contemporaryartist #ocd #liveart #installationart #artistresidency #thatgallery #basingstoke

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Petroom – While this account isn’t at all deep or meaningful, it makes me smile and even laugh on a daily basis. Sometimes we need thoughtful advice or inspiring messages and sometimes we need cute animals with funny captions.

YOUTUBE

Anna Akana – I’ve talked about Anna’s videos before (here and here) but I had to include her in this post. Her videos are beautifully crafted and incredibly succinct in their messages, many of them about mental health with real, usable advice. I also love her sense of humour and the short skits where she plays all the characters.

DudeBabe – Lauren is one of my favourite people on YouTube at the moment. Her videos are raw and honest and she posts almost every day, about her life and her experiences with an eating disorder. Food is a daily struggle for me so I find her videos really helpful but mostly I’m just really inspired by her openness.

This video is my favourite: it gives me hope that, one day maybe, I can have this sort of positive, freeing experience with my mental health.

(EDIT: I wrote this blog post before Claire Wineland died and although that doesn’t change whether or not I’d include her in this list, it added a weight to this post that I never expected when I started writing it. And what I wrote about her, it was true then and it’s true now. I just wanted (and needed) to acknowledge all of this.)

Claire Wineland – I’ve talked about Claire before (here) and introduced her channel (here) but I couldn’t not include her on this list of helpful and inspiring social media accounts. She speaks so eloquently about some really tough stuff and she always inspires me to be a better person, to be a positive force in the world.

Lucy Moon – Lucy is a vlogger and makes all kinds of videos, from fashion and make up to food to chats about therapy (that is a particularly good video). She also does an ongoing series of videos called 168 Hours, where she documents a week in one video. I find all of her videos really calming to watch. There’s something very reassuring about the way she talks.

TrichJournal – I’ve talked about Rebecca before (here) but I still want to include her account here. Having someone talk so eloquently and thoughtfully about hair pulling, about a disorder that is so rarely talked about, was incredibly validating and strengthening and helped me to stop pulling the first time. Plus I find her voice so calming. I’m linking her Trichotillomania channel here but I also love her ‘main’ channel, where she talks about lots of different stuff, including mental health, hoarding, make up, her cats… Many, many things.

Claudia Boleyn – I’ve watched a lot of YouTube videos about BPD and Claudia’s are my favourite by miles. I’ve talked about her videos before (here) and there are others that deserve their own posts because she describes it all so, so well. She’s thoughtful and eloquent and her videos mean so much to me: for the first time, I didn’t feel alone in this.

Haley Pham – I found Haley through her dance videos. I absolutely adore her dancing; I find it so calming. If I could have her dance for one of my music videos, I absolutely would. One day maybe. She’s also completely hilarious.

This post was deceptively hard to write. When writing about other people and their work, I get really anxious that I’m not doing a good enough job, if that makes sense. I love all of these people and want to reflect all the good they do – I’m scared I’ll do them a disservice. So I hope I did an okay job and that you guys have enjoyed this. Are there any social media accounts you think I should check out?

Tomorrow, I’m heading back to my university for an event about social media and mental health, which I’m really excited to be a part of. Maybe I’ll write a blog post about it…

Stop Pulling My Hair Out (Attempt 2.1)

My first battle with hair pulling ended after about nine months when somehow, I managed to will myself to stop pulling. Finding my first bald patch, about the size of a 2p coin, had seriously freaked me out and so I’d been determined to stop. The first few days were absolute hell. It was like my fingers were magnetically attracted to my head and the longer I didn’t pull, the stronger it became. Have you ever held two magnets close enough that you can feel the pull between them? It was a bit like that but all through my body. I won’t lie, the thought of shutting my fingers in a door so that I physically wouldn’t be able to do it did occur to me more than once. I couldn’t concentrate on anything; my whole brain was focussed on not pulling out my hair. It becomes a habit and you do it without thinking about it so when you try to stop, you have to think about not doing it all the time, just in case you slip up. And then the need to do it just overwhelms everything.

I’m not sure that feeling exactly faded but I learned to compartmentalize: I managed to cram it into a box and think around it. That sounds impossible now. When I couldn’t do that, I tied my hair up in a ponytail and allowed myself to pull the hair out of that, the resistance from the elastic band fulfilling some of that need. But I wasn’t allowed to pull it out. It wasn’t perfect but it did keep me from relapsing. For a while, that is. I didn’t pull for over a year but then I started again. I’m not even sure why, if I’m honest. I think I was tired. I was tired of fighting it. The urge to pull hadn’t gone anywhere and suddenly I was back in that vicious cycle, pulling and pulling and pulling.

That was about eighteen months ago. I’ve tried all my old tricks: wearing a hat, playing with fidget toys, fiddling with my spinner ring. But so far nothing has really worked. The hat worked best but the anxiety of not being able to get to my hair almost sent me into a meltdown and at the moment, pulling out my hair is the lesser of those two evils. I guess it’s not surprising, considering the amount of anxiety I’ve been dealing with recently.

In the last couple of weeks, I tried (again, hence the 2.1) to stop. In some ways, I was lucky the first time round: when I was pulling, I tended to pull from a point that was hidden by my hair most of the time. I mean, it still sucked but at least I didn’t have to deal with anyone else’s reactions. But this time, I’m pulling from all over my head: my fringe, my parting, my hairline… Literally everywhere. I’m triggered by a change of texture in my hair, from smooth to almost crunchy (if you have any advice on ‘fixing’ this, please let me know!) and that’s not specific to one area. And that means it’s much more likely to be noticed. Maybe it’s vain but that’s my motivation for stopping and I figure any motivation is good motivation.

So last week I tried to redirect my pulling away from my parting and my fringe. I was ‘allowed’ to pull from other areas but not from those two. I thought I was doing okay until I realised that I was chewing the inside of my cheek, with the effort or the redirected urge I don’t know. I stopped as soon as I realised, although not before it had bled quite a bit. Again, I thought it was all okay until a day or so later when the inside of my cheek started to hurt. I figured it was just healing but within a few hours, the pain was blinding. I’m writing this out and thinking, “This is ridiculous. You’re exaggerating. It was just a little gash inside your cheek.” I’ve always been sensitive to pain and easily overwhelmed by it but I don’t think that matters. In all seriousness, it was so bad that it made me cry (which only made it worse because, obviously, you move your mouth when you cry). It was that strong. For three days, it was so bad that I wasn’t able to do anything. I was barely able to eat, or drink, or talk. I almost cancelled an event I was looking forward to because the thought of having to talk and smile all evening was unthinkable. I woke up on that morning feeling a little bit better so I did decide to go but it was still very painful.

A few days on and I’m mostly pain free. That was not something I’d expected when I made the decision to try this again and it was really upsetting. I’m not sure when or what I’ll try next but I’m sure I’ll find something.

Conclusion: Failure.

Lesson learned: Be careful of where you redirect the urge and/or the effect that your attempt is having.

Introducing Trichjournal

I’ve been really struggling with my hair pulling lately. It goes through phases: sometimes I can go several days without pulling and sometimes it’s like my fingers are velcro-ed to my head. Right now, I’m in the latter. I don’t know whether it’s linked to my mental health (which hasn’t been great) or whether it’s just so ingrained that maybe nothing can stop it. Either way, I’ve been tearing out a lot of hair recently.

When I was writing my original post about Trichotillomania, I rewatched this video. I had discovered Rebecca and TrichJournal very early in my hair pulling and it was incredible. I wasn’t alone! I felt understood and I’m pretty sure that that helped me to stop pulling the first time. Even though it hasn’t lasted and I’ve since started pulling again, I’m still so very grateful for that.

That first post didn’t seem the right place to include this video but I have wanted to post it because I related to it so strongly and out of all her videos, I think it so truly shows the distress that Trichotillomania can cause. It’s not just pulling a bit of hair out; it has profound effects on the person and their life.

A few quotes from this video:

  • “My fingers are screaming to tear at my hair right now. In the past I’ve described them like magnets: they are attracted to my hair.”
  • “I really, really want my hair to grow. And I’m really, really scared of losing it.”
  • “Yes, I’m still pulling, because the pulling never stops.”

I’ve been watching Rebecca’s videos for about three years now. Apart from videos on Trichotillomania, she talks about mental health, hoarding, makeup, her life… oh, and her cats. They’re gorgeous. You can find her channels here and here. I really recommend checking out her videos.

No, I Can’t Stop Pulling My Hair Out

I first started pulling out my hair in August 2014 and looking back at everything that happened that summer, it’s probably not surprising that I developed a compulsive behaviour. I was already struggling with my mental health and then, in the space of a few weeks, an important relationship fell apart and I had to have my cat (who I’d had all my life) put to sleep very suddenly. And I was just about to start university. I was overwhelmed by my anxiety and depression and in the lowest place I’d ever been. I was probably desperate to regain some control and when something started affecting the texture of my hair (my money is on the new medication, Phenelzine, which I’d just started taking), my inner perfectionist went into overdrive, tearing out the hair that felt different. At first I was fixing the problem – getting rid of the hair that felt different to the rest – but, of course, it grew back, creating a whole new problem. Then I was tearing out the regrowth, as well as the rougher stands, and the whole thing snowballed. Very quickly it reached a point where I felt like I physically couldn’t stop pulling, as much as I wanted to.

At that point in time, I didn’t know what Trichotillomania was and I’m still not entirely sure how I came across it but for those of you unfamiliar with it, I’ll give you a little summary. Trichotillomania is a condition where the person feels compelled to pull their hair out (whether it’s from their head or any other part of their body) and is unable to stop themselves from doing so. Although there are different theories (including mental illness, self harm, and addiction), there is still no known cause and there has been very little research into treating it. While checking my facts to write this, I came across a description on the NHS website which, for me, is very accurate to what it feels like: “They will experience an intense urge to pull their hair out and growing tension until they do. After pulling out hair, they’ll feel a sense of relief.” It feels like there’s electricity under my skin and it builds and builds and builds until I can’t bear it anymore; the only way to stop it is to pull out my hair. Then I can breathe again.

I tried to stop but I always ended up pulling again. It honestly felt like it would’ve been easier to break my own fingers than to stop pulling out my hair. It was only the discovery of a bald spot that shocked me into stopping. I don’t know whether it was vanity or anxiety about how out of control it had become but somehow that gave me renewed focus and motivation. I tried everything I could think of: sheer willpower, sitting on my hands, wearing a hat 24/7 (which, bizarrely, has become part of my image as a singersongwriter), fidget toys, jewelry that I could fiddle with. Ultimately I think it was a combination of these that helped me stop pulling.

I managed a whole year. The first few days were awful. The feeling of electricity under my skin magnified, so strong that I couldn’t concentrate, and I’m not sure when that started to fade. But it did. And slowly my hair grew back. But the urge never went away and just passed the year mark, I started pulling again. The relief was huge. And now, over a year later, I’m still struggling with it.

What I think many people don’t understand about this condition is that it’s not voluntary. I’ve had so many people tell me to ‘just stop pulling’ and that’s really upsetting to hear because I don’t want to pull out my hair. I don’t want to sit, surrounded by strands of my own hair. I don’t want this. I can feel myself doing it and I can’t stop. Sometimes I can stop that action but as the tension gets worse, I end up pulling again – it feels like an endless cycle of trying to stop but knowing that I’ll inevitably start again. It’s so hard. And if the bald patches, uneven length, and permanent damage to my hair weren’t enough, that’s only part of it. There’s an emotional impact; it’s not just ‘pulling out hair’. There’s shame, embarrassment, guilt, and frustration. I hate that I can’t stop, that I can’t seem to control my own body. (It’s also worth pointing out that I also struggle with physical pain in my arm and shoulder from the repetitive motion.)

But I’m not giving up. I’m not sure what I’m going to do next but I’ll find something new to try, a different angle to tackle it from. I won’t give up. I can’t, because I don’t want to live like this.