Big reveal

This is a post I never imagined I would get to write, hoped but never imagined; I didn't believe it would ever happen. So, I'd been living a predictable, routine and slightly boring life for a while now, too long, living vicariously through books, films and TV. Not really sociable, but seeing my family every week, occasionally meeting friends and when I was feeling brave, going on dates. I pushed myself to attend work events, joining the social committee to make it easier. I encouraged myself to do what I love, to challenge myself. I joined the Creative Writing Club at work and entered the annual short story competition, winning a prize! I started yoga, perk of the job, which I've kept up. I went to the gym after work for a few months, another perk of the job, got injured, unrelated, and never went back. I found a far nicer way to spend my time... I was thankful usually when plans fell through, so nothing disrupted my safe comfortable life. I was always annoyed when a message popped up, when I had to disrupt my life for a few hours, change my habits for a bit, always expending too much effort, constantly second guessing myself. I never thought I'd have the time, energy and inclination to willingly and freely change anything even temporarily, let alone permanently. I thought I only had the capacity to live for myself, barely managing to hold down my job, crashing when I got home, even after my health improved following an operation. I thought I couldn't let anyone else in. But underneath it all, I knew I wasn't happy with my single status.

The photo that started it all,
still my favourite photo of us

Already gone were the unattainable ideas of when I was younger: finding my one true pairing, a soulmate, Disney Princess style, instant at first sight, butterflies in the stomach, something that's all-encompassing, being swept off my feet, infatuated, where they occupy my every waking thought, heart leaping when I see them, the world disappearing when I’m with them, being told, to paraphrase Jane Austen, that I've "bewitched them body and soul" or a Brontë style passionate affair. But that’s overwhelming. I've felt that in my heady teenage years and it's not sustainable, not the ideal at all. Imagine living like that, trying to have a fully rounded life, hold down a job? I've had enough of feeling overwhelmed in life. It can feel overwhelming when you're alone together, but in a good way. Time can get away from you though! I need to prioritise food and sleep better... Now I know it doesn't have to be like that, loud and bold and conspicuous. It can be quieter, it's about them being a constant background thought, heart warming you when you see them, anticipation before you see them next, the world suddenly seems better, right, when you're with them. They become your favourite person, sharing each other's lives rather than being their everything. When I turned 42 recently, he got me a Douglas Adams-inspired birthday card, writing in it: "you have become my answer to life the universe and everything." He struck the right balance of funny, soppy and heartfelt, not overwhelming.

First Christmas together

Most people, love songs, romcoms and chicklit books focus on attraction, as if it's the most important thing. But there has to be more. I feel a whole mixture of emotions: relief that I have found someone who understands me or wants to understand me; safe, it's what every woman wants, to feel safe alongside attraction; supported, knowing I'm with someone who only wants what's best for me; accepted for who I am: clumsy, geeky and silly old me.

At a 40th birthday party: me as Sarah from Labyrinth

That's what everyone should look for and have in a partner: acceptance, safety and support. But everyone has an idea in their head of who they want to be with: what they look like, the job they do, their interests, experience and background. This can be due to things that have happened in the past, but are more likely to be high standards, intolerance, prejudice, ignorance, or an easy excuse not to even try. I was mostly the former and the latter. Dating apps have only made this worse: you can automatically filter people out and immediately dismiss people because they're not tall enough or too tall, too big or too skinny, don't earn enough, have a beard, don't have enough hair, have too many tattoos, are a gym fanatic, they smoke, they drink, they have typos in their profile, they don't provide a lot of information or their photos aren't good enough. I'm sad to say, I was guilty of all of that and more.

All dressed up for a wedding

I messaged someone throughout lockdown, for months. We really clicked, had a lot in common. Then when we could meet, there was no attraction. We were relaxed in each other's company, but we both knew nothing would happen. It was mutual thankfully. I had several dates with someone I really matched with, on all levels, the online chat was good, he was perfect on paper. But when I met him, again, there was nothing. I tried, I really did, too long probably. It led me to think there was something wrong with me, beyond the anxiety and confidence issues. It sent me back to therapy. I thought I could be on the spectrum, gay, aromantic, asexual, or that there was something deeply inherent in me that meant it was never going to happen for me. Underneath all that anxiety, I knew that was wrong though and I was also wrong that I wouldn't find someone; it would be sooner that I would ever have thought.

All dressed up for another wedding:
rococo monster mash-themed

It's such a cliché, but I hadn’t met the right person. Nothing that can ever be included on a dating profile really matters. What matters is who they are, how they treat people and how they make you feel. You don't get that online, can never see that online. You get that with time. I don't mean butterflies in the stomach. That means you're nervous around them, you're anxious. I thought I'd always feel like that. You should be looking for someone who makes you feel good, relaxed and calm. Yes, you're going to be nervous before and on the first date, but afterwards? I was a little awkward around him initially on our first "date", but then, it just felt right. That's the way it always is with us now.

All dressed up for Rocky Horror

I've had people who I've been attracted to or have matched with that have treated me like a side note, an afterthought, an object, something to be picked up and put down as and when they liked, out of sight, out of mind. They kept me on edge, making me feel on edge around them. This meant not replying to my messages or talking to me for days, weeks or even months, acting like nothing was wrong with that, starting up a conversation again when it suited them, making me feel jealous. If you feel jealous, then they make you feel insecure. My man is a natural at making me feel secure; he does it without trying as that's just who he is. The few times I haven't, I've told him and he asks me why and what he can do to make sure it doesn't happen again. The others weren't really interested in me as a person, not even trying to get to know me, only concentrating on what I looked like, certain parts of me, not me as a whole. I've been mansplained to, decisions made without consulting me because "they know what's best for me", dismissed outright, cut off when they found out something that didn't match with their idea of me. That's what dating apps do: make you look for your ideal.

Out for a nature walk

Knowing that you feel safe and secure with them, that you can be vulnerable and honest with them, that you can be yourself with them, that's the ideal. I like myself when I'm with him, I like to think I'm my best self with him. The weird thing is and I'm extremely upset to say, I would have swiped left on my new man: he is tall, even taller than my tallest brother; he is big; he has a mohican; he drinks, but not to excess; he spells things wrong; and worst of all, he doesn't read books! That would have been a dealbreaker in itself. He does get most of my references though and I get most of his, even if he doesn't think much of The Lord of the Rings... yet. We've introduced each other to the things we love: him My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, me: nature and wildlife. We've found new things we love together: Apothecary Diaries. I like to think one of his geeky t-shirts would have caught my eye, or his TV and film watching habits would have piqued my interest, or he would have included a funny quote that made me laugh. But no, that's wishful thinking.

Introducing him to my favourite film
The Princess Bride in the best way possible,
at the cinema!

It's what the tick boxes, algorithms and swiping lead you to become: someone who is quick to judge, all surface level and based on appearances. I would have missed out one of the most kind and considerate, cheeky and geeky, sensitive and emotionally aware, warm and tactile, supportive and encouraging, fun and funny, patient and understanding men I have ever met. I've been looking for someone like him all my life, without ever believing he existed. But in the end, he was literally around the corner from me!

Weekend away for a gig

When the right person comes along, for them you will want to give up your time, your evenings, your weekends, sleep, your Mum's Sunday roast! You will want to just be with them, even if it's only to watch anime on the sofa. You will make time for them when there is seemingly none, a few precious stolen moments between other things. You will have to become better at organising, logistics and herding cats, trying to fit him, family, friends, work commitments and chores into your plans, while trying to compromise as little as possible. You will not only welcome their messages, but reply as soon as you can and not agonise over it, you make sure to leave a reaction to show you've seen their message if you don't have the time to reply. Their friends will become your friends. You will do things that will normally cause anxiety like last-minute plans, going to new places, doing new things, trying new food, meeting new people, playing dress-up and wearing high heels, going to two weddings when you barely know anyone there, all because they want you to. When they need help, you will be there. And they will do the same for you. Everything will be easier because they're there right beside you. When you're used to doing things by yourself, you don't know how much easier it is when you have someone else, someone to consult, someone to help, someone to share things with. Family and friends can fill some of that role, but it's not the same.

At Cambridge Pride with one of his friends,
now my friend too

You rediscover yourself, learn new things about yourself. Things you thought you knew about yourself you will find are wrong. You always have to fill the silences, that you're boring otherwise. But just being with someone not saying anything now says a lot. You don't like being hugged or touched and you need your personal space. Not with them, all you want to do is hold their hand, stay near them, be as close to them as possible. You've never particularly liked kissing. But it turns out with the right person, you can't get enough. Trying new things always causes you debilitating anxiety. Not when someone is there to encourage you and will you on. You have to always be in control and prepared. Not if you're with someone, outside your family, you trust and can rely on. You always have to hide parts of yourself. Not when someone understands you, wants to know you, the whole of you. You're too insecure, too clingy, too needy, too anxious, too much. For some people yes, for the people that count, for the person that matters, never. You're not enough. You are when you find your person. Of course, it might just be him! If I was with someone else, it mightn't be like this.

First photo as a couple

The touch thing deserves more unpacking. Instead of feeling intrusive, claustrophobic and possessive as it has in the past, with him it feels right. I used to edge away, end it early and escape from it as soon as possible. But with him it feels natural, no need to ask for consent. His hand in mine is grounding for me, searching each other out as we walk or sit together. Slipping in and out of it as needed, not taking offence when we don't want to. His arm around my waist is reassuring, letting me know he's there for me, happy to be a couple in public. His touch is comforting, arousing and encouraging, sometimes all at the same time! I never thought I'd be in a hand-holding couple, but it all depends on what kind of relationship you have, how comfortable you are with each other.

I feel safe in his arms

It helps that this happened over time, getting to know someone over weeks and months rather than online dating like I'd been trying before. I could see how they treated people, learn what they valued in life, how they viewed the world. So, we knew we got along, had things in common, liked each other, more than liked each other, missed each other, cared about each other, did things for each other and just wanted to be around each other. It developed so easily, gradually and naturally. It's the ideal: friends to being a couple. We're lucky as we work together, so we can see each other every day, have lunch together. But it also means we wanted to be sure, not wanting to make things awkward at work, not wanting to ruin a friendship, taking longer to get together than probably necessary. But it was worth taking the risk, at some point that's what it comes down to: the courage to make that step.

Me helping dye my man's hair,
purple obviously!

Surprisingly, it was me that crossed that line first, but unbeknownst to me, he had prepared to do the same, but circumstances had got in the way. I'm happier than I've ever been, a contented sort of happiness, more self-assured, more settled in myself. My family have noticed and commented on it. It hasn't been anxiety-free; I don't know which new things will trigger me. But the right person won't find it too much, won't find you too much, won't try to change you, fix you, make you someone you're not. They won't turn away when they see your vulnerable side, won't be scared off by your more difficult side, won't be turned off by your messier side. They will accept you, encourage you and allow you to be yourself. I am more myself with him and his friends than I've been in years. You will change, not because they want you to, but just from their influence. You will want to, for yourself. You will finally dye your hair purple like you've always longed to do!

Becca dyeing my hair

Despite all the self-analysis I've done over the years, all the therapies and experiences I've had, it's still a mystery why this is happening now, why this is the right time. I am a person who is usually never sure about anything, living in the realms of possibilities, what ifs and if onlys. I can be swayed and influenced, gullible and impressionable, more sure of other people's opinions and ideas than my own. But I'm sure about him, that this feels right. This is amazing to me, not just because I am usually an unsure person; it's because I don't find it easy to trust people. Read my posts about when I was bullied at school to find out why. What I've learned through all this is to believe in actions not words. Believe what people show themselves to be, not who they say they are.

Our pub quiz team, what we did on our first date

Right from the beginning, I trusted him, from first conversation, from first offer of help, from first time alone together. His actions showed what a wonderful person he is. I never like being alone with someone I don't know very well, sometimes with people I do know! But I trusted him implicitly from the beginning; right to my very core, I knew I was safe with him, physically and emotionally. Just through being the open, emotionally aware and sensitive person he is, he let me know he accepted me for me. If there was anything wrong, we would talk it through. Most importantly, he wouldn't just leave, cut me off, abandon me (a complex I have) seemingly for one problem, one argument, one thing he discovered about me that didn't fit with his idea of me. All these things have happened to me and still cause me anxiety, but I've got better with it since my most recent therapy sessions. It stopped me from getting close to people, making friends and of course having relationships. The therapy obviously worked and maybe that is why now is the right time because not only do I have new friends, not only do I fit in with his community of people, but also, I have him.

Me last minute storytelling at The Elm Tree

He knows what he's doing; while not quite balancing me out, he complements me. Although he knows not to compliment me too much; I never believe it! He has enough experience of anxiety to be empathetic, but not as much as me, though most people wouldn't! He knows what to do to help me, support me, boost my mood. He knows how to make me laugh, how to turn me on, how to reassure me. He knows when to hold me and when to leave me be: too much touch can feel restrictive, especially when feeling stressed, anxious or panicky. All this he does without even having a conversation about it, let alone being told. This may be learnt through time being around me, but he has figured this all out by himself, or it's just who he is as a person. He puts others before himself, shows up for people, wants to do the best by people. It makes him a great boyfriend. One of my friends who proofread this for me says it's "the loveliest love letter I have ever read". We have been together as an official couple a year now and started using the L word after 7 months together, though we've known each other for more than 2 years and were friends for 6 months before we got together. I'm so lucky to have found him.

Encouraged to do so by my boyfriend

I do get flashes of wanting to go back to my simpler, easier and less busy life, especially when the anxiety hits, when I see my book piles, TV recordings and to-do lists stack up. Romantic books and films hold less interest for me now I know what real love feels like; the storylines, characters and drama don't ring true anymore, not what I want from love. That helps with my to read and watch lists! I'm lucky in how easy it is between us, how easy it has been to fall in love. I was ready to say it before him. I have battles within myself sometimes. But when I'm with him, I know he's worth any complications. I don't know where we're going, how long this is going to last. But I'm going to enjoy it, remain in the present, not think too far ahead. I know what I want my future to hold though. Him. I just want to hold him. I will hold onto him for as long as he'll let me.

Recreating that first photo a year later,
at the work Christmas party

My undoing

This is the hardest post I've ever had to write. I started it, but couldn't finish it. I've been emotional for more than two weeks. The reason? I left my job of 10 years. I’ve been drawing it out with a couple of secondments to different places in the University, but this time, it’s for good! It's so long and thanks for all the fish (I don't like fish).

Think this was during one of the conferences we held in the building. Photo credit: conference photographer

Being at Cambridge Judge Business School (CJBS) for so many years, seeing so many people leave and so many arrive, I never really believed there would come a time when it would be me saying goodbye. It’s a sign that I have been so happy, but it's also a massive change. However an opportunity that was too good to pass up came my way: a job in not just one, but two libraries I’ve always wanted to work for, have skills in and a fascination for the subject: Classics and Languages.

Dressed up to the 80s for the first work Christmas party, in my favourite colour

2009 seems such a long time ago, but trying to organise a team in my first week on the job for the 800th anniversary of the University of Cambridge celebratory University Challenge inter-department quiz seems like yesterday; our team lost in the first round to the Anglo Saxon Norse and Celtic department, but by a very close margin.

One of the many random things I had to do while at CJBS

So much has happened in the decade I've been working for CJBS, not least doing my second degree to become a certified librarian, two secondments to the Engineering and Homerton College libraries, being published in a professional publication, and speaking at a conference. On a personal level, being a bridesmaid twice and my nieces and nephews being born, moving out of home for the first time and moving house again, learning to drive, having a breakdown and being signed off work, finally getting a hold on my panic attacks and anxiety, two huge holidays (and numerous smaller ones), being diagnosed with a vestibular disorder which gives me vertigo, being diagnosed with endometriosis, film reviewing for community radio, and a lot of writing in a view to finally finishing the book in my head.

As Leela, for the space-themed Christmas party

I could only have managed to achieve and weather these significant life events with a secure grounding, at home yes, but also at work. I've been struggling with the change of job for that reason, not having the rock of CJBS any longer, though it has felt less of a rock recently. What's worse is that I've pulled the rug from under my own feet. But now life is feeling steadier again; I always adapt well to change, it's the anticipation that gets to me; I now feel able to finish this post.

Giving a presentation. Photo credit: camlibs

Cambridge Judge Business School has given me so much: my first permanent job after graduating from University; my vocation in life as a librarian; a chance to use my personal experience with mental health professionally as a Wellbeing Advocate which I can continue at the Faculty of Classics; and most importantly, friends for life. The attitude, community and atmosphere has made me feel I belong. To feel included is a wonderful thing. But I can't put it off any longer: to paraphrase Cecelia Ahern’s new book Postscript, just because saying goodbye is so hard isn’t a reason to stay.

Getting my staff recognition award. Photo credit: no doubt Dave Amann

Obviously this is an anxious time for me, with the uncertainty of what lies ahead utmost in the doubt I had about leaving. I must admit on the first day of my new job, I did think, "What have I done?" CJBS is a wondrous place. However this is mitigated by the places I've gone to to as I already know people, there is a great community around me, surrounded by lots of fantastic libraries and already knowing a lot of the software, processes and policies I've taken on. I've been reflecting on my reasons for leaving, which are numerous, questioning whether I've made the right decision; burnout is certainly in there; progression and development is a major factor; changes that have been made within the School, the team and to my job; and obviously the sheer number of years working there. I need new inspiration, to further my confidence and to find a new home knowing I'll always have this one to come back to.

Dressed up for my final work Christmas party in 2018

It made it so hard to leave, I felt so at home; it is a kind of grief, which I'm slowly coming out of now I've been in my new job for two weeks. But I took my leave in increments, telling certain people in person alone who I wanted to hear it from me, some were really positive, some were sad and one made me downright teary! It gave me the chance to show my appreciation and thank them for making my worklife better, easier and more fun. We don't tell the people in our lives what they mean to us, what their actions have done for us and what impact they have made on our lives. Being given the opportunity to do just that was a blessing. I hope it was as moving, uplifting and confidence-boosting for them as it was for me.

Another of the random things I had to do for CJBS, screenshot from a video filmed by Dave Amann (you can find the full video online if you know where to look (I'm not telling you!)

I'm not saying goodbye though as I'm going to stay in touch with many of the people, as you wish, even if it's just on Facebook, but I've not gone far, just down the road. Cambridge is such a small place, I'll bump into people, see them at events and on my commute to and from work. Now, bring me that horizon.

Cambridge Judge Business School e-luminate-d

P. S. I hope you found all my references in this post (Douglas Adams, The Princess Bride and Pirates of the Caribbean). The title for this post was taken from the document I wrote listing all the things I hold to take myself off of in terms of websites, databases, files, intranets, wikis and posters, as well as clearing out my desk, folders and any remnants of me that are left behind. I'm still doing it to this day! I literally have to delete myself.

The photo that is up on many of the University's pages. Photo credit: Sir Cam

NB: Parts of this post were shamelessly taken from the email I sent out to say I was leaving, crediting myself in case of self-plagiarism!

As a mummy for Comic Relief (yes, that is me in there)

Mental health and physical health

I feel like a fraud. It's taken me this long to write a post for Mental Health Awareness Week as I found out last weekend that my mental health problems stem not just from one chronic illness that causes my physical symptoms, but now two. I know I shouldn't blame all of my mental health problems on my physical health, but they play a significant part.

It is true that sometimes it's difficult to know where physical health and mental health start and end. Which is the chicken and which is the egg? For me, I question whether the physical health problems I didn't know I had caused the anxiety, or if the anxiety was there already. What a lot of people don't realise is the sheer gamut of physical symptoms mental health problems can cause. I've made a list at the end of this post of those I've experienced, differentiating between anxiety and panic attacks.

However my anxiety issues started, they are here to stay. They can be situational such as when I have to teach, go on a date, or travel by plane. They can be due to memories such as seeing a person who reminds me of bad times, songs that evoke negative emotions or anything that brings up when I was bullied at school. They can also be muscle memory as anything that increases my heart rate, gives me butterflies in my stomach or affects my breathing can bring on anxiety as my body equates those functions with an attack. Exercise can be problematic and I avoid being overly excited.

I have chronicled my vestibular problem before and the moments of seemingly random out of the blue vertigo started at a similar time to my panic attacks, which lead to generalised anxiety (GAD). However, after almost three years of again seemingly random out of the blue gut problems, which I initially dismissed as caused by my anxiety, then possibly by a tropical holiday, then by my diet, then by something more sinister, then dismissed as IBS, it turns out they're caused by endometriosis, which can cause dizziness and anxiety, along with other mental health problems. I was passed around the hospital, visiting many different departments, with frequent tests, procedures and treatments over those years; some were disruptive and some were downright disturbing, but I got to know how amazing the NHS is far more than I have ever done.

That said, when you have a history of mental health problems, no matter how great the system is, you will come across people, from the most harried of GPs to the most senior of consultants, who take one look at your medical record and write your symptoms off as psychosomatic or just another manifestation of anxiety. However I knew there was something wrong. I knew my body. That is one of the upsides of having a mental health problem, you become very self-aware, hyperaware almost. I'm an introvert and highly sensitive, so it's more pronounced for me. That's why I love that there's a move to rebrand hypochondria as health anxiety. So any change, yes you question whether it's just another anxiety symptom, but after living with anxiety for half my life at that stage, I knew it wasn't. Apart from the sudden onset and the fact that I was in the best place with my anxiety than I had ever been due to undergoing cognitive behavioural therapy (CBT), I knew the effects of anxiety inside and out; I had lived through the vast majority of them right up to and including a mental breakdown.

So I had to fight, just like I had to fight for my vestibular diagnosis. I wish I didn't have to, but I'm lucky that I haven't experienced as much of the stigma towards mental health as I know others have. Every test they did, there was a valid reason to do it and every time it came back negative, equivocal or there was no improvement, I forced the issue. That's why it took so long, they had to rule out a tropical disease with blood and stool tests, a parasite by sending samples to a special centre, coeliac disease with more tests, food allergies and intolerances with elimination diets, something more sinister with endoscopies, via a leftfield nuclear medicine scan until finally I had the third MRI of my life, which revealed the problem. I could have given up, but the doubters, including me at times, were wrong, my concerns had been validated and once more my perseverance has been justified.

Everything is interconnected and the endometriosis, which with hindsight has been causing increasing severity in my period-related symptoms over the years, but, in medical terminology, has an unusual presentation because the gynecological symptoms aren't significant and the gut problems are far worse. The only pattern, not dietary, not regular and certainly not serious, but still affecting my quality of life, was that time of the month. It is another cog in the wheel of understanding my gradually worsening health where it feels like my body is beginning to fail me and there's no cure, just management. The not knowing, the uncertainty was unbearable, but a diagnosis, that I can live with.

TRIGGER WARNING, these symptoms aren't pretty, but I don't get most of them anymore:

Anxiety:

• Weakened immune system leading to colds and bugs
• Lack of energy and motivation
• Lack of concentration due to racing and spiralling fixating thoughts
• Dizziness
• Breathlessness and shallow breathing
• Muscle tension meaning diarrhoea, constipation and stomach cramps
• Muscle tension leading to pain in the shoulders, neck, back and jaw
• Dental pain due to clenching of the jaw
• Headaches
• Nausea
• Restless legs, jitters and fidgety behaviour, including eye twitching
• Food cravings, usually sugar
• Loss of appetite
• Sudden need to pass water
• Intense thirst
• Sweating, including night sweats
• Hypersensitivity of the skin
• Sleeplessness and insomnia
• Hot flushes
• Reliance on distractions such as TV and alcohol

Panic attacks, in order of occurrence:

1. Hyperventilation (but you don't realise)
2. Pins and needles, usually in the extremities, but starting in the nose
3. Feeling of handcuffs around the wrists
4. Wind: burping and farting
5. Bodily functions stop such as sneezing, digestion and oxygen to the extremities
6. Tight chest so it feels like you can't breathe
7. Heart palpitations so it feels like you're having a heart attack
8. Hot flushes so severe you start to take your clothes off
9. Claustrophobia so you have to take anything constricting off including your bra and jewellery
10. Self-harming through pinching to relieve the pain inside
11. Vertigo meaning severe nausea
12. Throwing up
13. Shaking
14. The need to be as low to the ground as possible, usually on the floor
15. Can't take in food or liquid as throat closes off
16. Severe tension in limbs so you can't move
17. Severe tension in the jaw so you can't speak
18. Need to have people around, but not liking to be touched
19. Feeling of impending doom
20. Whiteout where you lose your vision and feel like you're going to faint

Afterwards I get thirsty but can only sip, the shakes, cold chills, diarrhoea and severe fatigue. That's the adrenaline comedown. It's good to feel the cold as that's the first sign I'm coming out of it. The next day I feel hungover and I often find bruises where I've unconsciously pinched myself.

They say you can't pass out due to a panic attack, but I beg to differ, particularly when they're this severe. Also, they say they only last 15 minutes, which may be true, but you can have another straight afterwards; I had panic attacks all day every day for almost a week which came in waves and left my legs black and blue as I had been pinching them so much. I wish I'd taken a photo so people can see, but also not as it could encourage self-harming and it was that shocking, I don't want to remember.

However writing posts like this is important as it not only helps others understand their own mental health conditions and if I help just one person, then that's a success, but it also shows me how far I've come, what I've lived through and how strong I can be. Some days I need that.

Isolation

This is the beginning of a short story that came to my mind after hearing about the great news that Gwrych Castle has been saved and no doubt inspired by the recent film of Pete's Dragon, as well as The Jungle Book for obvious reasons and the Viggo Mortensen film Captain Fantastic for less obvious reasons, plus documentaries on the Himalayas and cemented by my recent holiday in Costa Rica. Let me know what you think. I can send the rest of it to you if you feel it's worth continuing with...

Grwych Castle as I first saw it, through the trees

With each step, she cursed her parents’ final wishes. They had tried to help by spending their final days in the tower, when they realised how sick they were. But there were a few steps still to climb and she had to catch her breath on every second step. Perhaps bringing both of them together wasn't the best idea, even with the ramp she had set up. But it seemed fitting; they were hardly ever apart when they were alive and they should be the same in death. They even left her alone in the castle for days at a time while they went on their expeditions. However, the view at the top was worth it. Her father had forbidden her to ever climb the tower and, unusually for her, she hadn’t defied him. The tales her grandfather regaled her with had left an indelible impression. He deliberately told her when she was little of the dark history of the turret that reached higher than the canopy, the only one of their towers to do so. The vague memories of him, corrupted by time had only made the stories more potent. Many of the things he told her she didn’t believe, but some of the stories reeked with truth and had given her many a nightmare since. Her mother didn’t speak to her grandfather for a year after he told his only grandchild about the waterfall of blood cascading down the tower.

The breath caught in her throat again when she came out into the open, but for a different reason. The world spun around her, not from the vertigo of the sheer height she had attained, jungle life swinging through the trees had put paid to that, but from the spiralling staircase she had climbed, even at her slow pace. Leaning against the staircase roof, letting it take her weight, she took her bearings. This view she had seen before, from the tallest tree in the area, and her favourite, which grew just outside the castle walls. Even that was overshadowed by the tower, but only just as it peeped out of the trees. It was the only bit of the castle which was visible from above, as it was surrounded by vast dense rainforest. Fortunately, despite the airplanes which sporadically flew overhead, they had never been found. She had long since stopped fearing they would be discovered and now she was on her own, even less so.

Although they didn’t live in the Himalayas, the sky burial had always appealed to her parents. The vultures would have have competition where they lived though, so it would probably be a harpy eagle, monkey or jaguar, if it could make it up that high, that might do the honours instead. She dragged the white linen packages to the centre of the tower, pushed a lock of her mother’s unruly red hair, a more vibrant colour than her own diluted version, that had escaped back inside and waited until the sun went down before she left them alone. No thoughts or feelings entered her mind, no tears were shed and her body was relaxed as she sat there. Listening to the sounds of the rainforest with howler monkeys calling in the distance, watching the butterflies and hummingirds flit about the flowers occasionally tussling to have it all to themselves and watching the lizards hunt insects was a form of meditation. The fears of her complete isolation would come later, in the middle of the night when she woke up shaking under her own canopied shelter. The anxiety that had been suppressed during the long days and nights as she nursed them, only able to watch as they got sicker and sicker, would soon take over. She wasn’t used to it and barely knew what to do. So she ran and ran and ran until she reached the river and plunged in, the shock of the cold supplanting the shock of her grief. On her return, she looked up at the dark walls and considered her future by searching her past.

The castle was a ruin and only a few rooms were habitable, there were too few of them, their numbers dwindling over the years and generations, to return it to its former glory. She had always preferred to live outside anyway, with barely a roof over her head. It was miles to any other man-made structure; the pyramids they occasionally visited were deep in the jungle to the west, across the border to another country. The explorers who discovered those pyramids never found the castle hidden in the jungle, built by a Scottish family who fled their homeland after the battle of Culloden, foreseeing the loss of their heritage and proud national freedom. What possessed them to build a castle in a rainforest had been lost in the stories handed down by each generation. What was left was only a vague outline of trying to bring a bit of their old home to their new one. The local tribe were the sole people who knew they were there, but they keep their distance now, after an initial friendliness and trade of knowledge and supplies; when the building started, they never came by again. She occasionally sees them through the trees, but neither approaches the other. Although she knew she would have to when she came of age. Their actions to ensure they kept the bloodline going almost erupted into outright hostilities. Her father prevented that coming to pass.

A few days go by and the first vestiges of grief are breaking through the numbness that settled in, or she allowed to settle in, after the anxiety threatened to overwhelm her. Her sobbing wails attracted a few animals which she saw off easily and scared off a few more, which was more problematic as she was trying to catch them at the time to add to her food supplies. The future was becoming more oppressive, but the decision of what to do next seemed too large to make. It loomed over her, especially when she was trying to get to sleep. It couldn't be put off for much longer. Loneliness was not a problem, but isolation could be. Her independence worried her family at first, then they realised it was a blessing in disguise; dragging herself home after breaking her ankle in a bad fall silenced them. Dying alone was the thing that frightened her most; her parents had each other at the end, but she had no one.

So the next time she saw a tribesman, she stalked him. There was no need as she knew where their village was, but it was good practice. It was pointless all the same as he was too good of a tracker and hunter to not know she was there. But he hadn't counted on her training, handed down from generation to generation, provided by one of his ancestors no doubt. He tried to lose her a few times and at the last attempt, she let him think he'd succeeded and his complacency was his downfall. As the village appeared through the trees, a beautiful forest glade she had visited a few times in her curiosity, despite her father's warnings, she crouched down low and waited for nightfall, which always came suddenly.

Under the freedom of dark, her small figure crept past the guards and made its slow way to the chief's hut, using the various structures and other huts as cover. As expected, she was not accosted and burst in to see the chief, using surprise as her entry pass. Before anyone could grab her, her knife was at the chief's throat and the few people in the hut froze. Slowly she turned round and took them in. That was when she realised her mistake. The tribesmen she had thought she would have to fight off, before she could overpower the chief and force him to take her in; their code of honour stating that any great fighter would be welcomed into their village; were not there and in their place white people like her. The obvious leader who had until a moment ago been sitting down with the chief had startled into a standing position. A man behind him had a metal contraption with what looked like a telescope on the end; it was pointed at her and her immediate thought was she was in trouble. It wasn't what she feared, though it did look like a threatening weapon, but she was in trouble all the same. Before anyone could make a move, she barged past them, knocking what she would later learn was a camera out of the man's hands and fled.

Over the next few days, she cowered in the castle, doing the bare minimum as to upkeep, her previous forays had kept her food stocks at full capacity. All the while, she assumed she would be invaded. The defences were all set up, after extensive repairs due to lack of use. Nothing happened. The anticipation escalated her anxiety and when the invaders finally did arrive, they found her incapacitated in the middle of the castle courtyard. Anxiety turned to panic, the body she could always rely on failed her and her athletic legs had crumpled under her. A tribesman had clearly been persuaded to lead them there and when their eyes locked, they seemed to apologise. When she tried to stand to run away from them, she found that she could not move, her legs were locked in position, though her heart was pumping as if she were running a marathon. That was when the world swam in front of her eyes and when she could see again, she was being carried away. The scream that was developing in her throat got lodged and she struggled for breath. The limbs that had sealed her fate, came back to life and she flailed in the man's arms. He dropped her more in surprise than pain. There was no fight left in her, but her flight took her to her sanctuary. That was where they found her, asleep; the adrenalin that had gotten her there had caused her to crash out.

Common sense prevailed and they let her rest, only in favour of exploring the castle in wonder and complete bewilderment. The top of the tallest tower had been blocked up; she had left her parents up there and didn't look back. So there was no blundering into making a gruesome discovery. When they returned to find her waking up, they did make one blunder, cornering her in her safe haven under the canopy she had made herself. They soon learned their mistake with a few minor injuries, but when they had her pinned down, telling her to keep still, they almost let her go in shock, when she replied "I will nae give up." "You're Scottish!" The pale white of her skin may be suntanned and made less harsh over the generations, the strong Scottish blood watered down by successions of tribesmen and women, but the red of her hair was still clear to see and her accent was as broad as a true highlander.

When her mother had taken a local man to her bed, keeping him captive until she was sure she was with child, they were all astounded that he didn't immediately flee when he was freed, instead he stayed with them and became part of the family. She was the first of their family to be truly half Scottish and half tribesman. How they retained the red hair was a mystery even to them, but they were grateful for it. The accent was simpler to maintain. It was what saved her now and more importantly them. With the leader of their group on top of her and her struggling to get away, she almost missed it. But when she heard it, she suddenly stilled and peered through her hair at the man who had spoken. "Nae lassie, do not keep on so." His hair was black and his eyes blue, not the red and green of her own, but she recognised something of herself in him, beyond his accent which was softer than hers. His hand reached out for hers and she took it, letting him lift her up and into a strong hug which slowed her heart down and her racing thoughts. The anxiety about her future dissipated as with a few words and one action, she knew she was alone no more.

Inclusion: a personal revelation about why I'm a librarian

I've been hearing a lot about inclusion lately; the recent UXLibs IV conference in Sheffield has meant it's been a constant feature in my Twitter feed for a week and it's made me more attuned to it. I see it in the anniversary of Grenfell Tower, with the emphasis on community. I see it in many articles about the football World Cup in Russia due to the country's attitude towards LGBTQ people. Obviously, I see it in MeToo and TimesUp. I see it in much of the commentary about a certain president across the water from us. I was woken up to it close to home by the EU referendum, or more aptly the opposite of inclusion: exclusion. However as a middle class white female living in a developed country with free healthcare and education, I thought that I'm in a privileged position. But I haven't always been. It was in reading Christian's blog post of his UXLibs IV keynote, that I realised I haven't always been so privileged, that I have felt exclusion. For a long time in my life I was excluded and it has affected me ever since, in ways I'm just beginning to discover. It has lead me to search for groups, people and institutions that provide that sense of inclusion and community, for better or worse. I have a strong sense of loyalty to people and place. And it's why, even when I have been included, that I haven't felt the full force of that inclusion no matter how welcoming it is, because of the exclusion I felt at an impressionable time in my life. I work in a great library, among great people, in a great School for a great institution in a great city. I've probably been here longer than I should have been because I feel so included here. It was in reading this particular paragraph of Christian's that it hit me:

"I find the concept of belonging very important and very closely related to inclusion. I see belongingness as a fundamental emotional need for human beings to be an accepted member of a group: Could be a family, co-workers, religion, a football team or the UXlibs community. If you tell me you don’t need to belong I say you either a psychopath or a liar. We have a desire to belong and be a significant part of something that is greater than ourselves."
https://christianlauersen.net/2018/06/07/inclusion-and-belonging-in-libraries-and-beyond/

Exclusion and inclusion

One of my key drivers is to include others, to put others before myself and it's why being a librarian is an ideal job for me: libraries are open places, the best librarians are inclusive people and the library community is special to be part of because of their inclusivity.

That's the problem with the librarian stereotype; it's all about exclusion with the shhhing, the rules and the stern woman in a cardigan and haired pulled back into a bun. Librarians are usually the complete opposite; we try to be inclusive as we can get away with and UXLibs IV was designed to help us do that.

Libraries feel like safe places to me: havens and sanctuaries. I can relax in a library, feel at home and importantly be part of something, among my people! It happens when I walk into any library, an immediate sigh of relief. I should have thought about becoming a librarian sooner!

Alone in a library

WARNING: you might want to stop reading here as things get a bit personal from hereon in.

Here's a little history to explain. At primary school, a wonderful school; it wasn't their fault, they did all they could, all any school can; at the age of 10, I experienced my first sustained bullying. Up until then, I had a best friend and various groups of friends I hung around with. I went to their birthday parties and I was part of several groups, even the cool kids. I was basically included everywhere, apart from the boys of course! Afterwards, I only really had my best friend and this intense attachment broke our friendship up, but gradually over many years. I don't blame the others, it's the way schools are; one person gets singled out for being different; for me it was my glasses, intelligence and awkwardness; the others join in. I thought I had got away lightly as it was nothing particularly terrible as it was only really name calling and nothing physical. But thinking back, I should have realised it was the exclusion that was the worst thing; it's the worst thing about any bullying: the alienation, the loneliness and watching the world from the sidelines.

The grip of belonging

So where the bully lead, pretty much everyone else followed. They didn't bully me, they just excluded me, stopped inviting me to things, hanging around with me and finally, talking to me, apart from taking advantage of my intelligence to help with schoolwork, which I gladly gave them because at least they were paying attention to me! I was persona non grata. I was invisible. When my parents found out and alerted the school, things got a little better. But the damage to my relationships, forget friendships, with my classmates was irrevocable and they were never the same since. When we started secondary school, I hoped things would change, but they didn't, even with the bully in the other half of the school, so no chance of any classes with them; everyone had moved on.

That was the thing, the bully was one of my closest friends. I had recently gone to a sleepover round their house and not a group sleepover either. Then suddenly they turned on me. So it wasn't just the exclusion that was the problem, it was the withdrawal of inclusion. So for the rest of my life, throughout my friendships, professional relationships, let alone personal ones, I have always been on tenterhooks, not getting too close for fear of the future exclusion.

Standing out

It was only a year until secondary school, so I handled it by retreating to the library, the one place the bully wouldn't go and therefore find me. It's why libraries are the one place, apart from home and churches, where "my soul can rest".

I tried to move on, but I still saw the bully in the halls who'd take any chance they could to pick on me. When others saw, they caught on and it allowed various others to bully me. It was tacit permission to bully. I didn't help matters; my shyness, introversion and passivity stopped me from sticking up for myself. Friends I made came and went, often literally moving away, which didn't help my sense of abandonment. It wasn't until I was 16 that things got better, when I did my A-levels; I found a new group of friends, potential boyfriend and finally an identity of my own rather than just following what everyone else was doing in a desperate bid to belong, but then the anxiety and panic attacks hit.

Now I'm in the best place with my anxiety, realising the reasons behind my desire to be inclusive and actually using my intense aversion to exclusion for good and in my professional life, that can only be progress. My need to belong though, that is something I'm going to be working on for the rest of my life.