Time, for some reflection

I finished watching the second season of BBC One’s ‘Time’ last night, and it was the most triggering, difficult to watch, but utterly brilliant television I’ve seen in a long time. Triggering for all manner of reasons, but it was Tamara Lawrance’s depiction of her character’s mental health decline following birth trauma that had me crying all the big ugly tears. It was so real and so very raw, exploring how unrelenting, repetitive and lonely new motherhood can be, and once again shone a light on the desperate need for more support for new parents. It took me right back and, as my hubs appeared next to me with a hug, it made me reflect on how long I would’ve been floundering in the darkness for if it hadn’t been for him, for my family, for my girls, and for the safe spaces they gave for me to finally admit I wasn’t coping. I feel like a very different person now, and actually a person I like a lot more than I did even before the depression hit. That feels conflicting because I wouldn’t wish the dark clouds on anyone, it still feels painful to think about, and I sometimes still suffer with the lingering anxiety, but at the same time, without that period of my life I don’t think I would have made as many positive changes as I have. Without the almighty fall, I maybe wouldn’t have recognised other times I was struggling, or the things I was doing to mask those feelings (hello, wine). I also wouldn’t have discovered more compassion, or had much of an idea about how to talk to others about their mental health struggles. There’s something about having experienced ‘it’ (whatever that ‘it’ may be), for yourself that helps to open those conversations to talk to and perhaps even help others. Before his tragic passing, Matthew Perry had said he found purpose in helping others with addiction, that’s what he wanted his legacy to be, stating “…the best thing about me is that if an alcoholic comes up to me and says, ‘Will you help me stop drinking?’ I will say, ‘Yes. I know how to do that.'" That personal experience, and perhaps learned empathy, drove a desire to help others, and there’s definitely magic in that. I didn’t ever get around to writing down everything I experienced during Sober Spring, but I completed the challenge! It was daunting, exposing, and initially tricky to navigate, but overall one of the best decisions I have made for myself to re-evaluate my relationship with alcohol. I had genuine fun, not the kind of fun you think you have had when you wake up hungover with fuzzy memories (or previously no memories in my case), actual genuine, belly-laughter inducing, amazing fun. I went out, listened more, soaked up little things I would have otherwise missed, took in every conversation and best of all, remembered it all the next day. It felt liberating taking back control, and I’m grateful that drinking for me was a habit, rather than a dependency. Reflecting on that being a line for many that’s too easily blurred, I took another month off the booze in September, and do feel firmly on my way towards being an ‘I can take it or leave it’ kind of girl. If any one of my friends wanted to stop drinking now, for any period of time, I know the level of understanding and support I could offer would be far greater than it would’ve been previously… …Which is great, but I just have a little niggle in my mind about why that had to be learned, and wasn’t necessarily instinctive. Natural instinctive empathy pours out of me when it comes to my children, but in other situations it definitely takes a little while and a lot of learning to get there. Anyway, that’s the kind of stuff keeping me awake at night... I have at times felt a little overwhelmed by the mental load recently; life is very good, but it also very full on. However, when parts of the world are full of terror, where even the most basic needs are not being met, where people are experiencing an humanitarian crisis on an unthinkable scale, I keep reflecting and ending up back at an overwhelming feeling of immense gratitude. Gratitude, but also hopelessness. Haunted by the images of terrified children in the media, but unsure of how to help. Charitable organisations need donations, but the little I have to give financially doesn’t seem enough. I don’t need to have personally experienced conflict to know that no one should experience life that way, so this has to be an exception where raw human instinctive empathy takes over in the drive for help, and ultimately change. Maybe the desire to help is a good place to start. Maybe different ways to offer help, support, and solidarity will become clearer. Maybe if our children’s generation learns to stop seeing wider communities as ‘others’, and they learn to actually see each other things will feel different. Maybe that’s too much of a leap, and actually making little positive changes, helping even one person at a time along the way, will help to bring a little more peace into this chaotic world. S x