Molehills in the time of COVID-19

We continue to adjust to life in lockdown.  It’s not the staying indoors that bothers me at all – I am, by nature, a hibernator and quite happy to spend my days pottering around the house.  As long as I have my cat, my books, Netflix et al, I can be quite content.  But this has made me realise how incredibly, desperately spoiled I was with regards to food and shopping.

In my entire adult life, there has pretty much never been a time that I have not been able to get something I want to eat.  All those meal plans where we said: “I fancy aubergine this week!  Dover sole!  Chicken thighs!  Taramsalata!  Scrambled eggs!”  And then, boom.  COVID-19 happens, and food shopping becomes a thing to be feared rather than a quick ten minute sojourn before you get on with the business of whipping up a meal.

I don’t like the modern phrase of “Check your privilege” but it is so applicable here.  I am definitely checking mine.  I took so much for granted and with it, all those people toiling away in the supply chain, probably for minimum wage, to ensure that my every whim was met.

And the privilege continues to a certain extent, because it is a privilege at the moment to be even fretting about something like this but I do think that my anxiety has hooked on the issue of food availability and supply rather than dealing with the bigger, more frightening things happening outside these four walls.

It was eggs that I fixated on at first.  Eggs were in short supply.  We are genuinely trying to go out as little as possible, and certainly avoiding large supermarkets. But the little Sainsbury’s Local that I ventured out to, in that first week, was stripped.  Suddenly, all I could think about was – what if we can’t get any eggs?  What will we do?  I never realised that I was so very fond of eggs or that they formed such a staple part of my diet. We’ve now signed up for a weekly delivery of milk, eggs and butter (from The Modern Milkman if anyone is interested and in the supply area – only two deliveries in but have been extremely impressed with the whole process and the quality of the produce.)

Less pressing, but stll, niggling at me like an itchy cardigan, I began to worry about our supply of beloved Maldon Sea Salt, and the sriracha chilli sauce that we tend to strew with abandon over half our meals.  Ebay, and an online Asian supermarket, have solved these problems for now, although the fact that I have three boxes of salt in my pantry probably means that I am turning into one of those stockpilers that I so despised at the outset of all of this.

Flour and yeast were then the next obsession and I became frankly Gollum-esque protecting my precious jars.  I’ve just been able to order a few bags of plain and bread flour and some fresh yeast (which I can freeze) at Shipton Mill who are, very sensibly, releasing a limited number of delivery slots on a daily basis as and when they become available so that has solved that immediate problem.  I await, resigned, to see what will strike next.

I am genuinely curious to see if this has a long term impact on shopping and eating habits when things revert to normal.  Will we revert away from the current culture of little-and-often-as-whim-dictates more towards a weekly “Big Shop”?  Will we continue to use these small suppliers who have been there for us when we needed them or will we abandon them in favour of supermarket convenience and competetive pricing?

If nothing else, I just hope that I remember to be a little bit more aware of how lucky I am.  And never, not never, take eggs (or salt, condiments and flour) for granted.

Meal planning Monday (sort of): 15th April 2019

Meant to post this yesterday and, er, failed.  But we carry on regardless!  It's just a shame that meal planning Tuesday doesn't have such a pleasingly alliterative quality.

Anyhoo, how are you dearest reader?  I hope this finds you well.  We had a bit of drama at the weekend when the cat decided to either have a midlife crisis or start her bid for the Best Actress statuette at next year's Oscars.  It culminated in her being frogmarched to the vet who announced that she has slightly dodgy kneecaps.  As my mother said, one never thinks about cats having knees.  She now appears thoroughly pissed off with both us and life in general.

Of couse, she can express such emotions by leaving us little turd shaped indications of her displeasure in the hall.  The rest of us have to keep soldiering on despite the fact that a) Brexit, or the lack thereof, is a constant source of stress (modern day politics is NOT good for those of us with higher than normal anxiety levels), b) work is unrelenting and c) no lottery win has yet been forthcoming.  I mean, I'd take the millionaire's raffle, I really would.  I doubt that I could quit work for a million pounds but I could definitely buy a nice handbag and, as we all know, a nice handbag always helps.

In the midst of all this, of course, there are people going through real crises.  Peridot, if you happen to read this - still thinking of you and sending much love to you both through the blogosphere.

So to meal planning!  It was actually our anniversary on Sunday - not our wedding anniversary but 15 years to the day since we first met.  Our first date was in a not-particularly-great pub in York.  This year, we celebrated with steak which has become our go-to treat meal ever since we discovered reverse searing.  About halfway through said steak, we realised that one would comfortably have done both of us.  And so, last night, the rest of it was thinly sliced and served in a sandwich with caramelised onion mayonaise, mustard, and lightly dressed leaves.  Elsewhere this week...

Tuesday: split pea and ham soup

Wednesday: pan roasted chicken breast with sweetcorn puree and a potato and chorizo gratin

Thursday: D (rather than Charles) is in charge and he is undertaking to produce a spring veg risotto

Friday: creamy salmon pasta (opting for fish like the good lapsed Catholics that we are)

Saturday: homemade pizza.  Not sure what form this will take as of yet.

Sunday: a special Easter meal of roasted belly pork, lightly pickled rhubarb, kale with cream and bacon and caraway roasted potatoes.  There may well be pudding.  And even a starter.  And I shall spend the entire day in clean pyjamas.  Hurrah!

A pre weigh-in post

So, first week nearly over and in a few hours it will be time to hop up on the scales.  Whether they are the Scales of Doom or the Scales of Joy remains to be seen. 

I wanted to make sure that this post was written and up before the weigh in, so that I can look back on it regardless of the result.  Because, whatever the scores on the doors, this has been a successful week.

As I hoped, operating within a structure has been really good for me.  I have been eating properly for the first time in a while and my fruit and veg consumption has rocketed as I embrace zero point snacks.  This has had a knock on effect on my mental health – I feel much calmer and more in control.  And physically, my stomach has been OK.  Not perfect, but OK. 

I have had a lovely weekend with friends and managed to enjoy myself without going ridiculously overboard, without adopting a “Screw it, I can’t point so I’m going to eat and drink everything in sight,” attitude and, hugely, without having a drink.  I am a girl who loves her alcoholic beverages: to get through an entire sociable weekend watching other people tuck into large glasses of Pimms while sticking to water is a pretty big deal.  But I made the decision that it wasn’t worth the points and it wasn’t worth the potentially catastrophic effects on my beleaguered digestive system and I stuck to it.

So whatever the scales have to throw at me today (and I’m genuinely in the dark) I’m going to try and remember that, by any other measure, this has been a GOOD WEEK.

Summer in the city - a weekend round-up

I didn’t want to go down to London last weekend, I’ll be totally honest. I was nervous about being away from home – from D, from the cat, from familiar surroundings - and, bluntly, from my bathroom. I also did not want to have to spend a weekend guestimating points just a few days in to my newest and shiniest WW attempt.

I had more or less made up my mind not to go but D wasn’t having any of it. I don’t envy him much of the time; living with someone who is very anxious must be exhausting. You constantly have to be strong for them, to push them to overcome their entirely irrational fears. So I was effectively frogmarched on to the bus on Saturday morning – but, in the end, all was well and I had a lovely time and have come back with that new sense of confidence which comes from venturing outside the comfort zone. Thank you, D.

Of course, the fact remains that I have two days where my tracker may be way, way off. Well, actually, I think that I am fine for Sunday since we ate in and I was able to find all food items in the catalogue. I winced a bit that the innocent looking honey and seed rolls that we had for lunch turned out to be 9 Smart Points, but heigh-ho, that’s what weeklies are for.

Saturday night required a lot more guesswork, but whether I’m under or over, the meal itself was worth it. We went to a restaurant called Ember Yard in Fitzrovia and it was LOVELY - especially gratifying given that I suggested it. It’s a menu of small plates with a Spanish and Italian slant – some of the dishes are recognisable from the typical tapas repertoire, others not so much. Highlights included (surprisingly) chargrilled flatbread with thyme and smoked butter (so good we immediately ordered another) and a lovely special of sea bass with ajo blanco.

Seabass!

Bread!

I tried a little bit of everything, but stuck to water rather than indulging in wine or cocktails and then, in lieu of a dessert (tough going – the churros looked amazing) I ordered a double espresso and a single dark chocolate and Pedro Ximenez truffle (which item I thought was a really clever addition to the dessert menu). A divine full stop to the meal.

Truffle!

Also – if you’ll forgive me ditching the food talk for a minute – we went to the open air theatre in Regent’s Park, to see a production of “As You Like It” which was brilliant! Such a funny, sweet, silly rendering of the play, which I hitherto hadn’t considered one my favourite of Shakespeare’s comedies. The musical settings were a little bit cheesy but the cast carried them off with aplomb and the whole thing was an absolute joy. I’ve never seen a bad production there – and it’s a lovely venue if the weather holds out. If you’re London based and find yourself at a loose end, get thee hence.

After returning in such a good mood, I am not exactly sure what misguided impulse compelled me to jump on the bathroom scales yesterday morning. I haven’t weighed myself on them for a while, so I have no idea how my weight today relates to my official WI last Wednesday. If I was expecting to see a large drop after a whole four days of counting, I was doomed to disappointment. Not for nothing does lovely Peridot call them the Scales of Doom, because I immediately felt sulky and annoyed and resentful. The answer is clear – official weigh ins ONLY from now on and a focus on progress rather than perfection.

Sunshine, lollipops and a new blog post

Long-time no blog!  It is probably a little self-indulgent to say that I hope that I haven’t been missed – but I feel it is slightly justified given that lovely Hazel left a comment on my last post saying she missed my Meal Planning Mondays!  I promise to reintroduce them forthwith.  With regards the radio silence:

 

Reason the first – my digestive discomfort issues have been continuing.  I have always prided myself on the robustness of my digestive system and this has been unpleasant and disconcerting.  I finally plucked up the courage to go the GP and it is probably something very simple related to stomach bile (sorry if TMI) post gallbladder surgery.  It is not uncommon and can be controlled with medication.  So once anything more sinister is ruled out (and giving that all of this has only kicked off post surgery it seems highly unlikely) I will be rendered as right as rain by the wonder of our NHS.  Happy days.

 

Reason the second – which is related to reason the first.  Long term readers will know that, from time to time, I have a bit of an issue with anxiety.  Or rather, Anxiety, because anxiety is when you’re a little bit worried about a presentation that you have to do at work the following day and Anxiety is when you are frightened to leave your bedroom for reasons that are obscure even to you.  It’s frightfully common nowadays – the go-to mental health issue de nos jours, so I feel like something of a cliché but there you have it.  Fretting about my health and always trying to ensure the nearest toilet was within easy access in case of emergencies combined with my existing predisposition and made me…well, a bit shaky.  I don’t want to dwell on this too much – if it’s boring and tedious to me then it is undoubtedly boring and tedious to you.  Needless to say, fasting went by the wayside (low blood sugar is the last thing you need when you’re wobbling anyway) as did much cooking or, indeed, taking much pleasure in food.  (Sorry for the melodrama – can you understand why I didn’t post now?)

 

I haven’t weighed myself in a while but from the feel of clothes and suchlike I think it is all relatively stable but I’ve not been eating particularly well and that is stupid, because one of the best things to do for your mental health is to ensure that your diet and fitness are on point.  So that leads me to reason the third why I’ve been a bit reluctant to blog.  I’ve decided to go back to WW for a bit.

 

I know that I swore off it and I truly believe that, in the longer term, intermittent fasting will enable me to maintain my weight without being a slave to the pointing and weighing and measuring.  But I also believe that just for now, a bit of structure, something to focus on, would be a Good Thing.  And if I can ditch a few pounds in the process it will be an Even Better Thing.  I don’t intend to be evangelical about it.  I will eat out and have nights off – life is too short to never eat another takeaway.  And I will continue to monitor the situation.  If the return doesn’t justify the effort well, then, I’ll stop.

 

I’ve already signed up for the app and will be going to my first meeting tonight.  I’m intrigued about the new plan – it seems to be edging ever closer to Slimming World with more zero point foods – including lean poultry, fish, eggs and pulses.  I struggled initially when WW switched from Pro Points to Smart Points so it remains to be seen if the further changes make it more or less doable.  Regardless, a healthy project is just what I need at the moment to take my mind off my own navel. 

Notes on gallbladder surgery

A slight departure from the usual Foodie Fare and probably not of interest to many.  But, you are more likely to have a dicky gallbladder if you are overweight, and if you starting reading this blog because it was supposed to be about dieting (hollow laugh) then this is something that may one day apply to you.  If not, no sweat, I'll be back with a cute cat picture shortly.

I really wanted to write this because I was so scared before having my gallbladder removed that I can't even begin to tell you.  I have issues with anxiety generally, particularly when it comes to matters of health, and the prospect of surgery terrified me.  So if this helps anyone else out there who is even half as frightened, then it will have done its job.

I first went to see the doctor in December over persistent, nagging abdominal pain - some generalised but some concentrated in the upper right quadrant.  It was never agonising, which is how gallstones can and often do present, but it was annoying. An abdominal CT scan showed some stones and that the organ itself was inflamed.  At this point, when surgery was mentioned, I must admit I didn't particularly feel that the severity of the symptoms warranted it; the advice of the experts, though, was that once you start having gallbladder problems they are likely to get worse and can end up very nasty indeed so, really, you're best off getting rid.

The process, in retrospect, all happened very quickly.  I saw the consultant within about a month of referral and then another month or so later was given an appointment for a pre-op assessment and then was put on the waiting list.  In my area, the average wait time from going on the list to procedure is 20 weeks, but I was given a date after around three months.  I should add, though, that I was offered a cancellation spot that I was able to take up which brought the operation forward.  It certainly seems to help if you can be flexible in these circumstances.

Unless they have a particular reason not to, gallbladders are removed using keyhole surgery which means that you can be in and out of hospital in a single day.  Apparently, the average procedure takes 45 minutes, although they can take anything from 20 minutes to 3 hours.  I had four little incisions, one of which was inside my belly button.  They inflate your abdomen to make it easier to manoeuvre, which means that you might (I did!) feel a bit bloated and gassy afterwards.  However, it is not an invasive procedure - I can't believe how small the marks are.

The thing that scared the bejeesus out of me was the anaesthetic.  Up until this point, I had never had a general anaesthetic.  I hope that I never have to have another one (the stress!) but it was fine.  And if you are reading this and are worried because, like me, you have a too high BMI and know that this makes you higher risk all I can say is I had no problems whatsoever.  There were two doctors taking care of the anaesthetic side of things and, I am told, they are present the entire time to make sure that you are OK.  If you are slightly overweight, they will raise your head slightly to make it easier for you to breathe.  If you are so overweight that it is going to cause a serious problem then you are unlikely to get through the pre-op assessment - i.e. if you're there and they're happy to go ahead then someone more qualified than you has decided it's not too much of a risk.

It sounds a cliche, but one moment I was in the operating theatre feeling a bit tingly, wondering if it was actually going to work, and the next minute I was coming round in the recovery room and the nurses were reading out horoscopes.  I expected nausea and disorientation but, for me, it wasn't much worse than waking up from a really heavy sleep.  I was slightly woozy and slightly dizzy, but within minutes was able to sit up and sip water and, as soon as they got me to the ward I was ready for a cup of tea.

In terms of general recovery: I was told differing things about the amount of time required off work.  At my first appointment, the consultant said 2-3 weeks.  The doctor that I spoke to on the morning of the operation said 3, the nurse in the recovery ward said 4.  My GP gave me a Fit Note for 4 weeks in the end but, to be honest, I probably could have gone back a bit sooner.  I am still ever so slightly sore, but not so much that it distracts from day to day life.  Immediately afterwards, other than the slight wind issue, the best way to describe the sensation is that it felt as though all my innards were bruised.  I was uncomfortable and a bit battered, but it was nothing that normal, over the counter, painkillers couldn't deal with and certainly nothing to be concerned about.  I had very little appetite for the first week or so.  I have also noticed that my digestive system seems slightly more...delicate subsequently.  I don't know if this is a long-term thing or just a question of things settling down over a period of time.  I am trying to listen to what my body is telling me in terms of quantity of food (I generally seem to want less) and not going overboard on anything with a particularly high fat content.

One thing that might well be TMI but no one mentioned to me beforehand.  One morning, I woke up to find that the largest incision site, in my belly button, had...well, ejected a rather large amount of blood-tinged, clear fluid.  I, of course, panicked, ringing NHS Direct at 5am and turning up at my GP's surgery first thing for an emergency appointment.  But apparently it is quite common to get a build up that all comes out at once, and it is nothing to get too concerned about, especially if the wound is not showing any other signs of infection.

The main thing that I have really taken away from this is how wonderful is our poor, beleaguered NHS.  I know you hear some horror stories but I can't praise the staff with whom I came into contact highly enough, from my GP right through to the nurse who gave me a hug before I got taken down to the theatre, to the lovely anaesthetist's assistant who chatted to me about his Mum as he was wheeling me in.  They do a bloody hard job day in and day out and I am very grateful to all of them.  They all said that it is natural and normal to feel nervous.  I mean, they probably could have done without me weeping on them at every opportunity but they were very patient and kind.

If anyone is about to go through this and has happened across this blog post and wants to get in touch then please do in the comments or to the blog's email address.  As I said above, I am more than happy to answer any questions about my own experience especially if it could help to alleviate someone's fears.

Normal service - i.e. food related witterings - will resume tomorrow.


Edited 25/02/2019 - following this surgery, I ended up with something called Bile Acid Malabsorption which is not uncommon and easily treatable but if you HAVE had your gallbladder removed and you are experiencing persistant stomach issues several weeks or months down the line, then I would strongly urge you get this checked out with a medical professional.

In which I re-commit to 5:2

I've been thinking about what I did at the start of the year that worked so successfully.  And what I can add to those techniques in order to be even more successful.  Here's my list so far...

1) A food diary.  Practically every day in January, I carefully recorded what I had eaten.  It might sound a little obsessive but it never took long, and I kind of enjoyed it.  It focuses you; even though no one else was reading it, I wanted the food that I recorded to look good...let's be honest, who wants to actually have to write that they've scoffed half a pack of Hobnobs?

2) Alcohol.  I've mentioned this before, I'm sure.  I love a drink.  But my weight loss noticeably speeds up when I cut it out.  I'm not going to promise to cut if out altogether, but for "5:2 2.0" there will be absolutely none on school nights (unless for a very particular reason) and I will limit consumption at the weekends by focusing on higher quality, low volume.

3) Meal planning.  Whatever diet you're doing, meal planning is pretty key.  I also need to make sure that I'm planning lunches and breakfasts as well - I'd like to limit snacks and treats and a surefire way to do that is to make sure that I'm eating properly at meal times.

4) Ah, yes, snacks and treats.  The odd biscuit or packet or crisps or piece of chocolate is absolutely fine, but I need to keep an eye on consumption levels.  I'd like to limit myself to one "treat" a day, maybe relaxing slightly at the weekends. So that could be a biscuit with an afternoon cup or tea OR a packet of cheeky cheese and onion when I get home OR a few Maltesers after dinner.  Not all three.

5) Exercise.  Yes, this again.  Lesley has nagged me about it before and with good reason - I need to make time for this and commit to a proper programme of activity.  There's a hotel across the road from my office with a proper pool - I'd love to treat myself to monthly membership so that I could fit in some swimming.  I'd also quite like to try some yoga classes, as I think this would help with my anxiety issues as well as being good, gentle exercise,  but I'm not going to shell out a penny until I've proved to myself that I can make exercise part of my schedule.  We have a treadmill in the garage, I have the couch to 5k app on my phone - it's free, it's easy, it's effective there is NO EXCUSE.

I reckon if I can stick to all these edicts, as well as two fast days a week, I can get things moving again in six weeks.  Game face on!

Excuses, excuses

So, I promised a bit of a retrospective post to talk about 5:2 and how the year was going.

I have talked on here on a couple of occasions about how 5:2 is hard but not that hard.  Fast days are rubbish but they are doable if you are organised and if you just get past the fact that being a bit hungry is not going to kill you.  I'm therefore a bit disappointed that our fast days have got a lot more sporadic in recent weeks.

There is a bit of a reason - or is it an excuse?  I always strive to be honest on this blog, albeit optimistically honest (is that a thing?) so I might as well say that, particularly since the break in, my anxiety levels have been high and I've not always been feeling 100%.  I've been on anti anxiety medication in the past but I don't like that as a solution so I'm trying to deal with it myself.  And I've noticed that low blood sugar can exacerbate physical symptoms of anxiety so I've been a bit wary of fasting.  Ha, written down that looks exactly like an excuse!

My weight has remained pretty stable throughout - I'm currently a couple of pounds shy of a two stone loss for the year.  That's amazing BUT the majority of that loss came in the first couple of months.  That is not amazing.

I've made peace with the fact that I am never going to be a skinny girl again, but I would like to lose enough that I am an unremarkable size and, more importantly, enough that I am not endangering my future health.  I really want 5:2 to work for that because I am shit scared of the alternative.  The alternative is going back to a more regimented plan - a Weight Watchers or a Slimming World.  And that makes me want to cry; I love being liberated from counting, from obsessively measuring out every teaspoon of oil or knob of butter.  I actually enjoy going to the fridge an being able to sling something together from bits and pieces of leftovers and not having to worry as I go along that it will involve more points than I have left for the day.  I cook and eat well and have found my own natural balance (as evidenced by the fact that, even without fasting, I have maintained my weight).

But, if 5:2 isn't going to get me to where I need to be then I have no choice.

So, here's the deal.  I am re-committing to 5:2 wholeheartedly for the next 6 or so weeks, which takes us to the end of August.  It would be nice to knock off half a stone or so in that time, although any downwards movement would be good.  If I haven't made any more progress then I'm going to have to start on an alternative route come September.

It's blogged and therefore I have to stick to it, right?

World Mental Health Day 2015

Saturday was World Mental Health Day. 

It seems that there is a day for everything now.  Which is not necessarily a bad thing, although there is increasing danger of Day Fatigue.  Still, mental health is an extraordinarily important issue and one that is not always easy to talk about or to understand.

Depression is not glamorous.  It is not even, usually, dramatic.  It is invidious and draining and unrelenting, like a thick, pale fog.  And it is incredibly hard for those who suffer from it to explain it to other people. 

This is probably one of the loveliest, truest and best things that I have ever seen written about mental health and how it affects not only the sufferer but all those around them.  It popped up on my Twitter feed at the weekend and the original can be found here.  There is nothing else that I need to add.

Sugar tax - really?

I like Jamie Oliver, and I like the fact that he is keen to use his celebrity status to make a difference to peoples’ lives.  But some of the aspects of his latest campaign (to add a “sugar tax” to fizzy drinks and to ring fence the proceeds for use in tackling childhood obesity) niggle at me a little bit.

Firstly, I work in tax.  Tax is complicated.  Logistically, the tax department is not set up to be able to “ring fence” profits.  And, really, can you imagine if it was?  The public pay tax and they have to be able to trust the authorities to use the pot of money in the best possible way – that’s the way that our current democratic system works.  We don’t ring fence cigarette tax to treat smoking related diseases, nor the tax on alcohol to provide support for alcoholics, and I don’t think that we should.  It sounds to me (and maybe I am scaremongering) like a step down the road to where we only offer health services to those who have “paid” for them.  

The second point about tax is that it is very difficult to draft legislation that will do exactly what you want it to do.  So, in order to tax fizzy drinks, we have to define fizzy drinks in law.  And then, the fizzy drink manufacturers will no doubt try to find ways to ensure that their products do not meet the legal definition.  Will it be done on proportion of sugar?  Level of carbonation?  Fruit flavour?  If recipes can be tweaked so that they fall outside the definition, you can bet your life that they will be in order to be more competitively priced on the shelves.

And tax issues aside, this feels like the thin end of a very unwieldy wedge.  First fizzy drinks, then will we target sweets, chocolate, cakes, biscuits…any foodstuff with a proportion of sugar that someone (Jamie?) has deemed too high?   Will this include sliced bread and bottled sauces and soups and baked beans?   

Look, obesity is a serious problem.  We all know that.  And we also know that dieting is not the answer – the dieting industry is worth billions and more of us are fat than ever before.  Prevention is way, way better than a cure – and prevention at an early age is paramount.  We, as a nation, should be protecting our children from all of the health issues associated with obesity.  But punitive taxes don’t feel like the answer to me.  It’s one thing to tax cigarettes and alcohol – and I say that as someone who has been known to indulge in both.  As an adult, if I choose to exercise my right to engage in a habit that impacts detrimentally on my health, than I pay for it.  Tax on sugar though?  What about all the people who are not obese, who exercise sufficient control over their calorie intake, who exercise, who live a balanced lifestyle and want to indulge in some confectionery as part of that balanced lifestyle?  Why punish them?  And, actually, is it the state's job to dissuade children from drinking cola?  I mean, I hate to be one of those people, but when I was a child I simply wasn't allowed to have fizzy drinks unless it was the weekend - and even then, it was to be regarded as a treat rather than an everyday staple.

Education must be a big part of the answer.  The more people cook from scratch, the more people understand what they are eating and what the impact of that will be on their waistline, and, quite frankly, the more emphasis placed on the many and varied health issues that are caused by obesity, hopefully, the more everyone will rethink their approach to food and nutrition.   We also need to be looking at the mental side of the coin – some people are overweight as a result of (at least in part) mental health issues.   Food and drink are coping mechanisms for a lot of people.  I don’t think that anyone would actively choose to be fat – so surely that begs the question why are so many of getting fatter?  And if the answer is that we are a nation of stressed, time poor people who rely on convenience foods and sugar rushes to get us through the day, then I don’t think that having to pay an additional 20p for a can of lemonade is going to make a discernible difference.

Time to Talk Day 2015

Today, some of the UK's leading mental health organisations are asking people up and down the country to take five minutes to talk about mental health.  The good news is that by reading this blog post you are doing just that - so have a gold star from me...

  

I've made no secret on this blog that I have had wobbly patches over the years and I have been blessed by great GPs and people around me who were willing to hold my hand when I needed them.  So I thought it important to acknowledge this campaign.

The thing about suffering from depression, or anxiety, or similar disorders, is that they are intangible.  You break a leg, you wear a plaster cast.  You catch a cold, you cough and sneeze.  Even something less immediately obvious, like diabetes - you have a blood test and then you are in possession of a piece of paper that says that there is something wrong.  When I was first diagnosed, quite a long time ago now, I requested a full gamut of tests because I was desperate to find a physical cause for the fact that my mental faculties were all over the place.  I remember almost crying when they all came back normal - a dicky thyroid, low iron levels, these were medical problems.  Being too anxious to function properly - that was not.  Which meant on top of feeling god-bloody-awful I felt incredibly guilty as well.

Depression can be triggered by a traumatic event, by grief or by stress but it is separate and distinct from all of these things.  And while everyone, sufferers most of all, want to hang on to a straightforward idea of cause and effect I don't think that ultimately it is helpful to focus on that to the detriment of coming up with coping strategies.

I don't really know what the point of this post is.  Just, I suppose, to encourage anyone who may stumble across it to take a moment to look at the Time To Change website, or to think about someone in their circle who may be struggling with some of these issues.  There is a wealth of information and help out there - and a good GP should be your first port of call if you or anyone you love is not waving but drowning.

And thank you, dearest reader, for taking five minutes from your day to read this post.  Normal service (whatever that may be) will be resumed shortly.

Failure to weigh in, failure to care

There was no weigh in post last week because I didn't make it to my meeting.  I could, possibly, have got to a different meeting but I didn't.  Instead, I not so much fell as threw myself off the wagon and lay in the dirt laughing while it retreated into the distance.

My mojo is definitely missing.  I have...I dunno, WW fatigue?  Actually, the problem is more along the lines of a build up of work and study related stress that is leaving me very tired and very low and I am struggling, hard, to keep up momentum in...well, come to think of it, anything at all.

This is hardly sensible since I know full well that I tend to cope better if I am on top of the food and exercise side of things but knowing what is good for me and doing it, as ever, prove to be two entirely different things.

Things are not likely to ease up on the work front for a while so I need to just put my head down with regards to that - I've got a few days away now so I will try and put the office out of my mind altogether and relax (always easier said than done), rejuvenate and come back fighting.  I will go to my weigh in on Wednesday and take the result on the chin and...well, just keep going.

This isn't a very cheery post to welcome in November, is it?  Sorry, blog friends.  Back soon with tales of foodie adventures in Edinburgh which will make much more pleasant reading.

Mental health awareness week - my two penn'orth

Last week was Mental Health Awareness week, which completely passed me by. It was also British Sandwich week, which, to be honest, I am far more likely to have noticed since I love sandwiches (and don’t tend to keep on top of mental health issues). But I didn’t want it to go completely unremarked upon, especially since the theme this year was anxiety which is an issue with which, sadly, I have had some considerable dealings.


The first time I had a full on anxiety attack I thought that I was going to die. Does that sound melodramatic? It feels melodramatic writing it down like that. But, nevertheless. I became intensely aware of every single function in my body – my heart, pounding, my stomach, churning, I had to concentrate on the act of breathing because if I didn’t I thought I might just stop. I was on a train to York, a journey that I had made a hundred times, and on this occasion the ambient light and noise was almost unbearable. Every sense was heightened to an uncomfortable degree, every limb tingled and trembled. I remember sitting, rigid, eyes closed, and just counting to ten over and over and over again. I had the sense that at any moment I might lose the capacity to understand language but as long as I could count, could remember the sequence of numbers, I still retained basic comprehension and it was all I could think of to do, so I counted and I counted.

When I got home I couldn’t do anything except lie prone, counting and crying. D came and sat with me, but I couldn’t bear for him to talk because the thought that at any minute I wouldn’t be able to understand him was overwhelmingly frightening. I tried to sleep but was too edgy and the dark held too many unnamed terrors. The next day, a Saturday, I phoned NHS Direct and wept down the phone at the poor lady who told me to go to A&E where a nice doctor gave me some betablockers to try and ease the physical symptoms. To be honest, she could have given me Smarties – at that point I just needed the comfort of seeing a medical professional and receiving the tacit reassurance that I wasn’t about to keel over with an advanced case of Death.

The trouble with anxiety attacks is that once you’ve had one you live with the constant fear that it will happen again, although nothing since has ever compared to that first experience. As I have got more used to them I have found that I can recognise the symptoms fairly early and, for the most part, actually talk myself down before sheer blind panic takes hold. When it comes to anxiety issues, knowledge really is power.

Even now, having experienced it first hand, I am slightly doubtful about the ease with which the terms “depression” and “anxiety disorder” get used. Like my mother before me, I am a natural born worrier with a tendency to fret about little things – this is not an anxiety disorder. Having a stressful time at work and coming home and bursting into tears over a stiff g&t is not depression. Sometimes we need to recognise our normal emotional reactions for what they are – no more and no less.

That said, if anxiety is taking over, if the thought of getting out of bed is just too much to cope with (bed being a designated safe place) then help needs to be sought. The right doctor is a very important part of the solution, so I would always encourage people to make sure that they are comfortable with their GP – and if they are not, request another doctor. You need to be prepared to be honest and raw with them so a rapport is crucial. Equally, medications – the effects and side effects can vary massively from person to person so don’t be afraid to ask to try different ones after an appropriate bedding in period – I went through four or five before settling. Talking therapies can be a great help and are available, as far as I know, in most health authorities, although the waiting list can be significant. A lot of doctors will recommend CBT for anxiety issues, and it can be helpful, but again, a lot of it will be to do with your relationship with the practitioner – the first time I tried CBT it did nothing for me at all. As an alternative, Helen Kennerley’s book “Overcoming Anxiety” was recommended to me by several people, so might be worth checking out while you wait for a referral, or decide whether CBT is the right kind of treatment for you.

Finally, I thought I would mention in passing (it being pertinent to the blog) the now pretty well established link between obesity and mental health issues. The direction of causality does not seem to be confirmed – i.e. no one is sure whether being depressed make you fat or being fat makes you depressed or if the truth lies somewhere in the middle. In my experience it is very, very natural to want to self medicate with food and drink when you’re going through something like this; when Outside is just too big and scary then wine and Kettle Chips on the sofa are comforting and safe. But they’re false friends - I know from bitter experience that if I eat well and get regular exercise then I am less vulnerable to those anxiety demons. And I think there is some comfort to be found in the ritualistic side of planning meals and concentrating on nourishing your body in order to soothe the mind.

For more information – or rather, for information, since I don’t flatter myself that my own ramblings count for very much at all in this particular field, the mental health foundation website can be found here.  No one should ever have to suffer this alone when there are resources and people out there to help.