Every time I have a meltdown, Good Shit happens

January 27, 2012 By 2 Comments

Anyone close enough to me will know that I pretty much have put my blood, sweat, tears, Facial Orifice Fluid and bacon drool into making my business work. When I ditched the cello completely (almost a year ago now…) and threw myself entirely into the photography, I had a fair idea of how difficult it would be. I knew, sure as fuck, that it would NOT be easy.

I’m not that stupid, thank you very much.

The thing that’s been the biggest ball ache though, is coping with the setbacks along the way. Not the lack of funds, or the lack of equipment, but the mental health setbacks. The burnouts. The meltdowns. I go through stages of putting absolutely everything into what I do. No corners cut in the slightest, no hints of slacking off, no pissing taking and absolutely staying on the ball. Of course! It’s expected with every business, right? Expected. Normally, straightforward.

Add in two demanding little boys, a house to look after and a husband to pay attention to, and suddenly it’s not so easy.

The one thing I overlooked, was becoming a combined SAHM and WAHM mom. I always thought I was just going to slot into one or the other.

I dunno, I clearly took leave of my senses for a little while back there.

So as a result, every so often, I pretty much just have a complete meltdown. Not like one of my fucked up depression episodes, where, quite frankly I could walk up to the medicine cupboard and overdose without so much as a “Thank you Bob”, but more like…a weird, horrible, childish tantrum-like meltdown. My brain goes something along the following lines:

“Fuck this shit I give up no one fucking appreciates how much fucking effort I put into this bollocks and given I don’t stop busting my ass it’s like a waste of fucking time because no one is booking me and what the fuck do I need to do should I give you blood slit directly from my own wrists because clearly that is what people want because nothing I ever frigging do is good enough and I swear to God I spend how many fucking hours a day sitting at this bastard computer constantly editing and networking and updating and don’t you fuckers sit there and tell me I spend all my time fannying about doing shit all because I do as much as I can without breaking and holy Jesus now the children are talking to me again and how am I supposed to get anything done without breaking me or screaming at them and there just isn’t enough time and I want more work but how the fuck am I supposed to cope with more work and omffffggggggggg maaaaaakkkeeeee ittttt stooooooooooooooop.”

And then I pretty much dump everything and walk away. For about 12 hours. Usually less. Because I’m a chicken. (And probably addicted {to being slaughtered like a wee baa lamb.}.)

In that very short time frame, a number of things happen.

1) I realise I’m not entirely shit, and that sometimes, I do produce good work.

2) The kiddos continue to behave in exactly the same way, because I’ve done a reasonable job of not letting them see me break.

3) I go back to thinking about my “split online identity” and question whether I’m doing too much trying to run @cosmicgirlie, my beloved outlet when I’m not blogging here, AND @JayMountford, the outlet where I pimp myself like crazy and stalk other people regularly to find work.

4) People start booking me.

Yeah, I don’t get number 4 either.

My only guess is it’s because I’ve gone through a period of putting so much effort into establishing my career, that just as I reach the point of “omffffggggggggg maaaaaakkkeeeee ittttt stooooooooooooooop”, I’ve done just about enough to put myself in the light, gain recognition, and therefore earn bookings.

Now, it’s obviously an arse that it goes this way, because frankly, that’s a real ball-achey way of doing things. It also makes me wonder if I have what it takes to continue in this industry. I second guess myself enough as it is, so these quarterly meltdowns really do make me think.

Since the start of this year, I have already done 4 photo shoots and turned down one (out of area for a portrait session), as well as having 3 further portrait enquiries. I have a total of 9 weddings booked for the year, with 3 more waiting to confirm or cancel, and have turned down one because it clashes with another wedding. I have done an impromptu photo shoot in Birmingham’s Bull Ring and have been invited to photograph CybHer. I’m about a third of my way into my second full year, and well, yeah.

I’m doing ok. I could just do with less of the meltdowns.

Filed Under: Depression, Fucked-Up-Ness, MAKE IT STOP, neurosis, twitter, Ultimate Stresssss, wtf

Last Christmas I gave you my ass.

December 30, 2011 By 12 Comments

Yeah. Harsh but true. Every Christmas I’d bust my ass trying to make sure it was absolutely perfect for everyone. Everyone else has their problems with Christmas, and I’d be the one running around trying to make it all better. Which would normally result in me missing out on a day that should be filled with fa la laah and alcohol.

I would still get the alcohol, but not with a smile on my face.

This year, something changed. I’ve spent so much time busting my ass for everyone else. Not just for my boys, not just for D, but for everyone. I should have felt insanely guilty about some of the choices I made this Christmas.

Choosing to not tidy the kitchen immediately after I cooked the mahoosive Christmas breakfast fry-up, letting D do it instead.

Making sure the boys didn’t rip into every single present within seconds of seeing them (which they didn’t want to do anyway).

Not cooking every vegetable under the sun and only doing one course for Christmas dinner (we bought in a pudding for the boys).

A significant moment came when I realised I could have a good Christmas, whilst still making sure my boys were ok, and trying to be mindful of others. I was surprised at myself when I was feeling cross with others reactions when I was trying to keep the peace with the boys on either side of Christmas day. I’ve worked hard enough to make sure they have a good day, so that I can have a good day, so that we ALL have a good day.

Weirdly, I enjoyed Christmas day more than any other day of the holidays so far, hands down. Normally I enjoy Boxing day at the in-laws, but this year  came away feeling very cross. I know why, and amazingly it wasn’t because things were “out of my control”, which is often the case. Christmas Eve was weird, but I can’t figure out why.

Christmas day, with just me, D and my boys (and my mom for a short while in the morning – she loved watching them open their presents!) was absolutely perfect. I think much of it was because we were all in our own kind of control. I didn’t need to do anything; the day just flowed perfectly. This year, I just made sure the little things worked for us, so that we would be happy.

I suspect that other contributing factors made big differences. Work is going well, and I think, although I’m not entirely sure, that Trevor’s work is slowly sinking in. There’s still so much there that I’m terrified of, and needs work, but it’s still early days, right?

So last Christmas, I handed out my ass on a plate ready for everyone to pretty much use it as they saw fit. I didn’t defend myself when I disagreed with something, nor did I fight for the things I really wanted to do (sit around, be a lazy bitch, play with my presents, play with the boy’s presents, drink, eat, drink some more; you know, the usual stuff). Visiting friends and family, I often came away feeling like shit; a bit scummy for not meeting up to their standards, or because I was always the one everyone could take the piss out of. My reactions this year aren’t quite as laid back as they were perhaps expecting.

My patience is short with others. My precious time is short with people who matter. To me.

This Christmas, I gave what I wanted to give. I gave me. The difference, is that instead of just having my ass on a plate to be beaten, I gave all of me; including the bits that can defend the other bits. My mind, most importantly.

This year was the best Christmas I’ve had in a long time. And I know that when I’m happy, my family in this house are happy. Because I didn’t shut down. Instead, I stood strong. Well, stronger than other times, in any case. And that’s not a bad thing.

Filed Under: actual happy times, christmas, Depression, family

The way I see it, is that it’s not how you see it.

December 15, 2011 By Leave a Comment

I wrote this a few weeks ago.

Im currently on a train to London as I write this. I’m going to see a therapist. He does hypnotherapy. I’ve been to one before, he was really good.

I’m sure you can probably guess why I’m going. If you know me.

I’m hoping to learn a lot about how I see things. I don’t just mean with my eyes, but with my whole mind.

As I’m looking out the window, I think back to being a kid and how I could stare endlessly out the window for hours and hours whilst on a train. Even in the underground, I’d stare out the window into the blackness, always finding something to see, some how.

Whilst I’m doing this journey on the train, I’m realising some things about myself.

I’m one of those long winded, expressive, arty creative types; you know, the ones who are. Just that little bit eccentric and you never quite know what questionable bollocks they’re going to come out with next.

I don’t fully fit that bill, I think, but I know I’m close.

And I realize this because of the way I see things. I’ve thought for a long time, that there are too many colours and visions in my head. Tat there are too many things for me to see, and that the things I DO see, I don’t seem to see them like I suspect most other people do.

Which is a bit infuriating, because I think my head would be a lot calmer, and clearer, and quieter, if I didn’t see so much.

As I’m watching the world whizz by own this Pendolino (which smells delicious because everyone’s eating breakfast), I can’t work out why my mind is insanely happy to drink in everything it’s seeing. And I mean everything.

If it wasn’t for the crap all over the windows on the outside, I suspect I would have taken a frillion pictures. Not necessarily to show off to other people, but just to let my brain process. It does a lot of processing. I see stuff, but I don’t often process it until I’ve seen it.

I think.

Processing means more noise.

I like processing, in a weird way. It helps me maintain control of what I see, what I have to hear. And I see and hear a lot. Sometimes I wonder if I see and hear too much; that seems to be when I get all twitchy and want to do something else instead.

When I get to this therapy session, I hope I’m not muted. Oddly, I hope everything else isn’t muted, because the noise and what I see is some kind of security blanket. It’s me, it’s what I do, it’s who I am.

I still want to be able to see. Maybe it would be better to see less? Or maybe how I see it is actually very important?

Maybe, just maybe, I’ll figure that out one day.

Sunrise

Filed Under: Depression, Hypnotherapy, Therapy

Shut Down

December 7, 2011 By 10 Comments

On Friday, I went to see Trevor. It’s been a long time coming and, quite frankly, I’m running out of options. I’m tired of being so fucking ill all the time, and even when things are seemingly going well, I’m tired of it bubbling under the surface.

Any way, he only went and stirred up a whole ton of shit and remember that stuff I wrote a while back about “noise“? Well fuck me in the eye, it’s so fucking noisy up in here right now I swear I might actually scream until I explode.

Of course, he stirred shit up in a good way; I appreciate that. There’s a whole ton of stuff from years gone by which needed fixing. I’m trying to fix it. WE’RE fixing it. I can’t do it on my own.

Now, the deadline for JMP Christmas orders was Monday just gone. Admittedly, I’ve been all laid back, thinking no one would really order anything. Or, if people did order stuff, it wouldn’t be much. Maybe 20 prints, tops, all orders totalled up. Instead, I’m powering (hah! Powering. That’s a fucking laugh) through about 500 prints, 3 storybooks and an album. Of course, with the usual lashings of really whiny children who have had colds for a month (A MONTH) and are desperately clingy, and then people assuming I have all the time in the world thinking I do nothing but sit around and chat shit all day, and then my shitty little neglected blog, in which I want to write stuff but everything I want to say just seems a load of bollocks.

I am physically shutting down.

I can feel it.

I can feel my senses going numb, giving in to the pressure of trying to absorb everything at top speed (why can’t they just absorb some of the stuff? Why ALL of the stuff?) and feeling like I’m a lifting crane with one bolt that’s just a fraction too loose.

I promised myself I wasn’t going to lose it this year. I said to myself, goddammit, I cannot, CANNOT cope with having yet another Christmas kick my fucking ass. ENOUGH.

This frigging noise which just will not stop is driving me MENTAL. Trevor gave me an MP3 to listen to in the same way I do with Thinking Slimmer (I’ve already listened once – holy crap I’ve never had someone’s voice put me in a subconscious trance so bloody fast) and that’s already becoming my lifeline to sanity.

Whatever the hell that is.

I don’t know if this feeling is shroud-like. I don’t think it is. Though, at the same time, I could just go find a corner, in an abyss of blackness and curl up, letting it absorb me. I would absorb it. Become nothing. Stop functioning, stop time, stop everything.

I really want to shut down.

So why don’t I? Why can’t I? Am I just going through the usual motions? Same old shit? “Yeah, all moms do that, everyone has been where you are, we’ve all felt it…”

Really? Have you? Really? If the option to cease existing (I don’t mean “die”, I just mean literally STOP) was presented to me on a platter for me to have, I think I would take it. Selfish? Yeah ok. Call me what you like, I really don’t care. It makes no difference to me. Personally, I don’t think it’s selfish to want to use any means possible to stop the endless screaming noise in my head.

What’s the opposite of “euphoria”? Is there an opposite? Only, it’s not excitement and happiness, it’s stone cold deadness; the extreme feeling of having the most highest state of nothingness wash over you. Some kind of blankness that pretty much seeps into your every pore, over every inch of you, and consumes you until all that’s left is a living, breathing, blank faced, staring corpse.

That’s what it feels like, I think. The state my body and mind seems to want to escape to. I feel it, washing over me in waves.

I guess that’s a kind of shutting down. I wonder if that’s how I’ll ever get to shut down. Maybe.

Filed Under: Depression, Hypnotherapy, MAKE IT STOP

And then I got my marbles back.

September 14, 2011 By 6 Comments

Actually, strictly speaking, that’s not entirely  true. Just because The Smalls are back at school and I finally have 30 seconds to do stuff, doesn’t mean everything is fine again.

Of course not.

Whilst I do know I still have some things I really need to sort out, it’s almost surreal to be in a place where I can actually think about the things I need to try and fix.

The Smalls are back at school. I have time to get on with work. I’m starting to be a human being again.

Unfortunately, that bastard Elephant is still in the corner. Now just to work out what the hell to do with it.

Filed Under: Depression
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