Posted on November 7, 2020
I really wasn’t convinced when the government reopened the gyms. It seemed to me that they were (and still are) much more concerned about the economy than people’s actual lives and I couldn’t imagine how many gyms would be able to create a safe environment with good ventilation and social distancing. I was particularly worried about this in a swimming pool.
Because of my Chronic Fatigue Syndrome (CFS) and joint problems (which we now know are linked to being hypermobile), swimming is my only good source of exercise really. All weight-bearing exercise causes me extreme, disproportional fatigue and pain in my joints that can last for days. Half an hour can essentially end my day. So I’ve always relied on swimming for exercise, which I was obviously not able to do during the lockdown. And when the pools opened again, I really wasn’t convinced that it was safe. I was desperate to swim again (I can’t believe how much I’d missed exercising – my teenage self would not believe it, although, to be fair, I had always enjoyed swimming) so I was really keen to find a safe way of doing it, if there actually was one.
We spoke to the gym where I’m a member and tried to come up with a plan. Pre-pandemic, I would swim super early in the morning when the pool was all but empty but they wouldn’t be opening that early post lockdown because of a lack of lifeguards. That meant that, even if we arrived as soon as it opened, there were likely to be many more people than we were used to and that made me very nervous. They offered to rope off half the smaller pool that’s used as a family or therapy pool (for me as a disabled person) and suggested coming as early as possible as that was when it likely to be the least busy. I was very anxious but we decided to give it a try.
There was no one in the small pool when we got there and we got into our roped off section. It felt amazing to swim and stretch my muscles. I was almost giddy with joy. But the other side and the main pool started filling up fast, with no real social distancing. I could feel the panic rising: I could almost feeling the air becoming more and more contaminated (I know it was my anxiety and my overactive imagination but that’s how it felt). As much as I loved swimming again, eventually the stress just got too much and we had to go. I don’t think we’d even been in the pool twenty minutes. It was something though and my Mum and I discussed what we wanted to do, whether we wanted to try different times, and so on.
And then literally the next day, the gym emailed to say that they felt confident with their safety measures and so would be opening the pool up to more people which, as desperate as I was to keep swimming, killed my desire to go completely. It hadn’t felt massively safe during our first trip so I couldn’t even imagine coping with more people around. The whole situation just felt incredibly stressful and scary and my anxiety would rise just thinking about putting myself in that environment.
Mum met with the person in charge of the smaller pool and raised our concerns. They said they would get back to us after a wider staff meeting the next week but they never did. Mum went a couple of times at different times of the day and thought going right before they closed was a possible option but I still wasn’t convinced; my anxiety was just so high. Even thinking about being there made it feel difficult to breathe.
In the meantime, we looked for other options, other pools that weren’t necessarily attached to gyms but where you might be able to book a slot in a lane. We went through several possibles with no success but after a while, Mum found a pool that were booking out lanes in the evenings, an hour at a time. She had them talk her through all their safety measures, which were extensive, before going to try it out. She came back with positive reviews so I thought seriously about whether I felt comfortable trying it out too.
It took a few weeks before I felt okay about going and their serious safety measures were comforting: everyone was wearing masks (right up until they were in the water); they took everyone’s temperature as we went in; we changed in little tent-like pods, each numbered, and then put our bags on chairs of the same number, situated by the changing room door (that way they knew which ‘changing pods’ had been used so that they could disinfect them, ready for the next group of people); and then once in the pool, the lanes were wide enough that you could properly social distance. So the whole set up felt significantly safer. And an extra bonus: they turned off the main lights so the room was lit with just the pool lights, creating a very calming atmosphere. It was gorgeous. And, as an autistic person, it made the whole thing a lot easier as a sensory experience. The glaring lights at swimming pools can be a bit of a challenge sometimes. So this was wonderful.
It was utterly glorious. I had such a good time. Being in the water, feeling weightless, swimming lengths, swimming down to the bottom at the deepest point, exercising my muscles… It was awesome. I loved every second. I was completely exhausted by the time I got out but it was the good kind of exhausted. It felt great. And I’d felt as safe as I think I possibly could have in the present circumstances. It was giddy with joy but also gutted that I had to wait a whole week to experience it again. I would’ve loved to do that more than just once a week.
Unfortunately the second trip wasn’t quite as pleasant. Either the rules had changed or my understanding of them had been incorrect because they were putting people from different ‘social bubbles’ or (whatever they’re called) in the same lane, which, as far as I could tell, didn’t allow for social distancing. I ended up having something that was somewhere between a meltdown, a panic attack, and an ‘episode’ of Misophobia/Germophobia (I don’t know if I’d say I have this phobia, but I’ve definitely had ‘attacks’ of it when the fear of germs or feeling contaminated is so overwhelming that I’m almost unable to function). Anyway, I was frozen there, hanging onto the wall of the deep end, unable to do anything. Like I said earlier in the post when talking about the other pool, I could almost feel the air becoming cloudy with the virus, feeling it coating everything, even the water. It was horrifying, like being trapped in a film where the world ends.
The staff were apparently very concerned and desperate to help but I couldn’t do anything but hang on to the wall; I don’t know if I would’ve had the wherewithal to swim if I’d slipped underwater. But eventually my Mum was able to coax me back to swimming, even though I kicked and cried, utterly terrified in a way that I can’t really explain now. It must’ve taken half an hour at least; I was freezing cold and apparently my lips had gone blue. After a while, I did manage to recover to some extent, at least enough to swim a bit, to warm up and not waste the time we had in the pool. The swimming felt good but the experience as a whole had been horrible and exhausting and I really wasn’t sure whether I felt safe there anymore.
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The busyness of that night proved to be an anomaly so, although I was anxious – and to a certain degree, reluctant – I kept going and it was better. I loved it: the weightlessness, the stretching of my muscles, the exercise that came with just a proportional amount of pain afterwards, the aching of long unused muscles, rather than agony that felt like the crunching of glass in every joint. It was wonderful.
Several weeks in, I had my hypermobility appointment, which was really interesting in the context of my gravitation towards swimming because swimming and even hydrotherapy are recommended for hypermobile individuals; it allows you to exercise and strengthen your core in particular (the commonly weak part of hypermobile bodies, although it often ‘refers’ pain to other parts of the body) without putting undue pressure on your joints. This made so much sense to me, particularly as I’d been struggling with ache-y muscles in my chest and stomach after swimming when I’d expected to feel that ache in my arms and legs. That appointment resulted in a referral for hydrotherapy but the doctor also recommended some particular exercises to do in the pool in the meantime.
However, before I could even get back to the pool again, the second national lockdown was announced. So, just as I was making progress (and getting some real joy out of exercise), I was running headfirst into a massive brick wall. I agree that, with Covid-19 cases rises in England, we need another lockdown but I can also be gutted that I can no longer swim, at least not for a while. And the sacrifice would actually feel worthwhile if this was a real lockdown but while schools and universities are open – allowing students to mix with any number of other people – it’s not. It’s not going to make a significant difference and it’s just going to sow the seeds of doubt about whether lockdowns work, which THEY DO IF DONE PROPERLY. Anyway, I’ve gone on a tangent. I don’t know when I’ll be able to swim again but I’m grateful to have somewhere that takes the safety measures so seriously to go when it is possible. I’m looking forward to it. I’m really, really looking forward to it.
Category: anxiety, autism, chronic fatigue, covid-19 pandemic, diagnosis, meltdowns, treatment Tagged: anxiety, anxiety attack, asd, autism, autism spectrum disorder, autistic, autistic adult, autistic meltdown, autistic meltdowns, cfs, chronic fatigue, chronic fatigue, contamination, coronavirus, covid-19, exercise, exhaustion, fatigue, germophobia, gym, hydrotherapy, hydrotherapy referral, hypermobile, hypermobility, hypermobility diagnosis, joint pain, lockdown, lockdown 2020, meltdown, misophobia, pain, pandemic, pandemic 2020, panic attack, social bubble, social bubbles, social distancing, swimming
Posted on October 28, 2020
Over the summer, I received a letter from the local Neurobehavioral Unit. My GP had referred me to them for specialist support for pain (joint pain and pain in general) and I had an appointment with a psychiatrist there who specialises in and has done extensive research into hypermobility, pain, fatigue, and anxiety. I had no idea what to expect or what I was going to get out of it but I’m always willing (even if sometimes a little wary of) trying new things that might help.
My GP had recommended I have a full set of blood tests first so that we had the full, up to date picture before the appointment so I had that done at my local doctors’ surgery. I was a bit nervous about going – with the pandemic and all – but it was quick and easy. I was in and out in less than fifteen minutes. We got the results back a week later: for the most part they were good (my iron is back within the normal range, which was the problem last time) but my Vitamin D was seriously low, so low that I’ve been prescribed a ten week course of Vitamin D supplements.
And then this week, I had the actual appointment.
It was an online appointment but the conversation felt surprisingly easy and natural. Dr J (I’ve decided to refer to her this way to protect my privacy, even though doctor-patient records are, of course, confidential) introduced herself and we talked a bit about her work and what we could potentially get out of the session.
We talked about my Autism diagnosis and she had me do a series of movements with my hands and arms, all of which confirmed a diagnosis of hypermobility. As far as I’m aware it was in the notes from my Autism assessment but it hadn’t been officially diagnosed in its own right. She told me that people with a diagnosis of hypermobility are seven times more likely to have a form of Autism. Seven times! She asked me lots of questions about pain and fatigue (both of which I seriously struggle with) and went on to explain that hypermobile people have weak core muscles which often results in fatigue and pain in other areas as the body compensates. That makes so much sense. It’s all so fascinating to learn. The more I learn about the things I’ve been diagnosed with, the more I understand how they’re all part of a bigger picture, how they link together like the strands of a spider’s web or stars in a galaxy. It all gets clearer and I feel less overwhelmed and less lost; it feels like seeing order in things that used to look random and that is so incredibly helpful. All of the things I struggle with often make me feel broken and moments like this help me in the slow shift from ‘broken’ to… ‘incompatible,’ or something like that. Something less personal. Is it a program’s fault if it isn’t compatible with the computer? No. And with that in mind, it all becomes more about problem solving and work arounds and less about right and wrong. At least, that’s the concept I’m trying to work towards.
She said she would write to my GP and have me referred for pain management, specifically for hydrotherapy. I’ve just started swimming again – Mum and I finally managed to find a pool with a set up that feels safe, or as safe as is possible right now and safer than the others we’ve spoken to – so that would be perfect; I would love to do it, to get fitter and stronger through exercise I enjoy (and that doesn’t cause me ongoing physical pain). I don’t know if it’s available right now – with the pandemic and social distancing measures – but I can’t wait to do it whenever it is. But in the meantime, Dr J recommended some exercises to do in the pool, as well as some very gentle floor based core-strengthening pilates.
She also asked questions about sensitivities, allergies, hay fever, dizziness on standing, lightheadedness, and symptoms like that. I’ve definitely experienced all of those, although not all consistently. When I’d answered all of those questions, she recommended I have a heart rate test and a blood pressure check and said she’d include that recommendation in the notes she’d send to my GP. If they showed numbers within a specific range, given the other symptoms we’d talked about, that could apparently give us another area to explore, health wise.
We also talked about my anxiety and the medication I take for it. She suggested an alternative that might be better suited to my situation so that’s something we’ll discuss with my psychiatrist when I next speak to him.
So Mum and I learned a lot and we have plenty of avenues to explore…
To be completely honest, it was a bit of a strange experience. I mean, it was really helpful and productive but it was odd for a very specific reason. It was easy. It was a conversation. She asked me things and I answered them. She believed me; she offered lots of advice and suggestions; she’s writing everything up and sending it to my GP. It wasn’t a fight… when up until now, it’s always been a fight. It was this beautiful, precious thing: to ask for help and have someone give it to me, with kindness and understanding and generosity. There will be more fights, I’m sure… more battles, but for now, I’m going to hold onto this feeling and memorise it so that I have it in my pocket like a touchstone for the next time I have to fight to get someone to stop and listen.
Category: anxiety, autism, chronic fatigue, diagnosis, medication, mental health, treatment Tagged: allergies, anxiety, anxiety disorder, appointment, asd, assessment, autism, autism spectrum disorder, autistic adult, blood pressure, blood test, exercise, fatigue, hay fever, heartt rate, hydrotherapy, hypermobile, hypermobility, medication, multiple diagnoses, neurobehavioral unit, nhs, pain, pain management, pilates, swimming, vitamin d
Posted on September 26, 2020
Not long ago, I volunteered for a research study into ME/CFS (Myalgic Encephalomyelitis/Chronic Fatigue Syndrome) and part of it involved keeping a photo diary as a visual representation for how my life is affected by my CFS. Obviously my life before the pandemic and my life now are quite different and so the researcher asked me to include pre-pandemic photos as well, to ensure that both experiences were recorded for the study. The collection of photos (and descriptions) I sent her was very long but I thought I’d do an abridged version to post here because it was a really interesting exercise.
(It’s worth noting that this was put together before I started back at university, hence why there aren’t any current references to classes or assignments.)
PRE-LOCKDOWN

1. During my BA, I frequently took naps in quiet corners of my university between classes and then at my best friend’s flat when he moved onto the same street as the university. I found the commuting exhausting and the classes were long (some of them three hours) and took a lot of concentration. By the end of the semester, I was often really struggling to wake up to go back for the next class. A few times, I slept straight through both my alarm and my class. Fortunately that only happened a couple of times!

2. I’m currently doing a Masters Degree in songwriting part time and pre-lockdown, I’d go up to London usually once or twice a week for lectures, workshops, and cowriting sessions. This is an example of one of the assignments we had during the first module, which was called Creative Process.

3. Because living alone would be too much for me – I wouldn’t have the energy to look after myself, let alone do anything more – I commute to university (pre-pandemic anyway), involving lots of underground travel and multiple train journeys a week, something that I find exhausting. This is one of the reasons I chose to do my Masters part time because it reduced the amount of travelling and therefore allowed me to spend more energy on the course/work rather than on travelling.

4. At the end of any day that involves hard work or anxiety, I’m utterly exhausted and usually end up horizontal on the sofa or going to bed as soon as I get home from wherever I am. In this instance, I’d just done the assessment presentation for the first module of my Masters – which I’d been incredibly anxious about – and was completely exhausted. Plus the day had involved practicing it in the morning as well as travelling to London and back. I was so tired that I could barely stay awake long enough to eat dinner before going to bed.

5. I spent most of my days out of uni on the sofa, working on music, my mental health blog, or catching up with my diary, a favourite movie or TV show on in the background because I work better with background noise. I’m usually joined by a cat or two.

6. As a singersongwriter, I try to perform as often as I can, both in terms of opportunity and having the energy (I once played three gigs in three days after which I could barely function for over a week because I’d just used up so much physical, mental, and emotional energy). That’s not a common problem – managing my energy around the amount of gigs – as there aren’t a huge number of opportunities with so many aspiring singers in the two cities I perform in, London and Brighton. I love performing. It’s the place I most feel myself, especially if I’m singing songs that I’ve written. I don’t feel any fatigue while I’m performing – I’m feeling so much joy that it’s like I’m flying – and I don’t feel any fatigue until the adrenaline wears off, anywhere between thirty minutes and several hours later.

7. Since getting an Autism Spectrum Disorder diagnosis, I’ve been able to get access to disabled seats at concerts, which does (in certain ways) improve my concert experience. It can be more stressful and it can make no difference at all but at the very least, it makes me feel better. I am in the disabled section and therefore no one can judge me or think that I don’t deserve to be at the show because I’m not dancing around, not ‘enjoying myself enough.’ That makes me feel more able to sit as I need to, which does make the concert experience easier on me and my body. Having said that, I’m not always so sensible out of sheer enthusiasm.

8. Before the pandemic, my best friend, Richard, and I had almost weekly writing and production sessions. My current EP was made almost entirely by the two of us in various rooms in the various places we’ve lived in over the last few years. These sessions are so fun and invigorating and even when it’s a struggle to find the right words or get the production to sound exactly how I want it to sound, it always feels right. I often feel very drained afterwards because it involves a lot of concentration and communication and we often work for four hours or more at a time. We have had sessions that last all day where I’m barely coherent by the end.
SINCE LOCKDOWN

1. We have five cats in the house and I’ve been spending a lot of time with them. They’ve always been really good for my anxiety – probably because they are so mindful and live so fully in the moment – but they’ve been an extra comfort during these stressful times. I always try to get a good cuddle in the evenings since I get particularly anxious before bed because I’ve been sleeping so badly and having lots of nightmares during lockdown.

2. I generally drink at least two Red Bulls a day to keep myself awake and somewhat alert, although I don’t think they work as well as they used to. I’m sleepy all the time, but whether that’s from the CFS or the side effects of my anti-depressants or both, I don’t know. I hate feeling like I need to drink it and I worry about the effects on my health but it’s currently the only way I can stay awake for at least most of the day. My Mum and I are investigating other options, or we were until the pandemic brought everything to halt. We haven’t given up though.

3. This is my usual day-to-day view at the moment. I have a desk designed for bed or sofa use so that I can work from the sofa, which is more comfortable for me than working at my desk since I’ve been have problems with pain during lockdown (I’ve been referred to various hospital departments but I’m still waiting for the appointments). I’m usually working on my laptop – on my mental health blog, on my diary, on music stuff, etc – and there’s usually a cat draped over me.

4. I usually have the TV on in the background because I seem to be more productive with familiar background noise, like a familiar TV show or movie. But I’ve also been watching new things during lockdown, both to escape from all of the stress around the pandemic but also as inspiration for my music as not much is happening in my personal life to draw from for songs. This is the very last episode of Agents of Shield, my favourite TV show and I was hugely sad to see it end although the ending was as perfect as the end of something you love can be.

5. Since face-to-face writing sessions aren’t safe at this current time, I’ve been doing all of my writing sessions via Zoom. I’m currently doing about two a week, mostly with my writing partner, Richard. We alternate sessions: one on my songs and then one on his songs and so on. It’s harder work and not quite as fun or productive as a normal pre-pandemic session (who would’ve thought that not being able to point at something would trip up the creative process?) but it allows us to keep creating, which I’m grateful for. I’m always careful not to plan anything too difficult afterwards because these sessions are really draining and after about four hours, my ability to concentrate starts to fade.

6. I’ve been playing a lot of piano during lockdown. It distracts me from all that’s going on, I want to improve my skills, and I just genuinely love playing, especially in the lower octaves. I find them very soothing. I can play for hours without noticing the passing time; it’s lovely. Playing and singing for hours is, of course, tiring but it’s worth it because I get so much enjoyment out of it.

7. Because of my fatigue, I spend a lot of time on the sofa, which can get boring and frustrating, but it’s not so bad when I have my Mum (she’s self-employed, primarily working from home – especially now) and the cats around.

8. Most days consist of sitting on the sofa, working on my laptop. I’m writing a lot of posts for my mental health blog at the moment, preparing for when university starts again and I have less time to write. My Mum often does emails similarly, keeping me company even if we aren’t actively engaging with each other.
So that’s my condensed photo diary for the study. There are, of course, other areas of my life and other areas of my life that my CFS affects, like food and exercise but I don’t have any photos relating to those. For example, swimming is my main form of exercise but pre-pandemic I wouldn’t take my phone further than the locker room and since lockdown began, I’ve been struggling to find a way to swim that feels safe. I may have found one but I’m trying not to get too excited: I’ve missed it so much and I’m so desperate to get back to it, for my physical health, my mental health, and my relationship with my body. I was also reluctant to include other people; my exception was Richard because our work and social media presence are so intertwined. So there are obviously gaps but I tried my best to give an overview. Hopefully it will be a useful contribution to the research.
Category: about me, animals, anxiety, body image, chronic fatigue, covid-19 pandemic, depression, medication, mental health, music, research, sleep, university Tagged: agents of shield, asd, autism, autism spectrum disorder, autistic, blogging, caffeine, cat, cats, cfs, chloe bennet, chronic fatigue, chronic fatigue, commuting, concentration, concert, cowriting, daisy johnson, degree, desk, diary, diary writing, disability, disabled, energy, energy levels, exhaustion, family, fatigue, film, friends, inspiration, laptop, lockdown, lockdown 2020, logic pro x, masters degree, me/cfs, myalgic encephalomyelitis, pain, pandemic, pandemic 2020, pandemic anxiety, performing, photo diary, piano, production, recording, red bull, remote writing session, research, research study, research volunteer, richard marc, richard marc music, singer, singersongwriter, singersongwriter life, sleep, sleepiness, songwriter, songwriting, songwriting degree, songwriting session, student, tv show, university, work from home, writing session, zoom

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.
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.
Finding Hope