Liam Neeson v me

So perfect

You are

At your little desk

Working hard

Like a little bunny

All fairness and light

Not ratting people out over email

Never lying

Or manipulating

Or bitching

Such purity

Just sitting at a computer

Being a good person

But look at that Liam Neeson

How horrid

Clearly a racist

A man who wanted to kill black men

A man who doesn’t understand black people aren't all rapists

Silly Neeson

I must be upset about this

It will show how worthy I am

As I sit here

Rotting in front of a computer screen

It will show that I condemn this man

For his honesty

His frankness

His humanity

It will show that I would never be so angry

Or bigoted

To even think an evil thought

They will all see my purity

Let’s make sure Neeson knows

We don’t want his story

I want to read about people like myself

Who have wrapped their shame

In a designer suit and one big smile

A decent pay cheque at the end of the week

For peddling sugar to children

I don’t want to have to think

Or analyse

That’s not what the internet is for

Give me a Monday morning crusade

So I can better the world

Whilst rotting in front of my i-Phone

I’ll crusade to make people scared to be honest

Or tell the truth

Or to be wrong

I’ll make sure Neeson says

‘I am not a racist’

Because then he isn’t

I’ll get so hot and bothered about the issue of race

That nobody will ever be able to admit they struggle with it

That they see it

That it’s a problem

Now - I think I'll go make myself a cup of tea. 

by Joanna Tilley 

One boring, sober year later

Lime and Sober

You think going one month without alcohol is impressive, do ya?, try one year bitches!

And that’s my friendly opener out the way.

I have now been off the source for a year and while I feel this is cause for… well, a drink – I don’t plan to get back on the wagon anytime soon. Instead, I feel like sobriety is part of my new, gulp, life.

A potentially rather boring new life. Let’s get this out the way straight away, being sober is often dull as f***. Funnily enough, when you take a source of great escapism and excitement out your life, it becomes somewhat dry. I’m still a social delight – don’t get me wrong! – but that feeling of anything is possible tonight doesn’t exist any more. Hard-core reality for all your waking hours is a ball-ache, my friend, even if you don't have balls. And yet it is a decision I'm coming to terms with. 

Now, I’m sure you are all on the edge of your seats wondering why I quit alcohol.

Well, I didn’t give up for a challenge or because I kept pissing the bed, I gave up because I had started listening to my body, and it turns out neither my body, nor my mind, much loved alcohol. *Getting deep alert*

Be it growing old and ragged, or too much damn yoga, I got to a stage when even after a couple of beers, I would feel my body and brain buzz the next morning and the prelude of paranoia sweep over me.

If you combine this level of sensitivity to the fact that I am (for the most part) past the stage of wanting to get absolutely shit-weasled, the real question quickly became: Why am I still drinking?

What was the frickin' point? To fit in, to loosen things up (you know what I’m saying. Aye!), to enjoy a finer selection of glassware, yes all extremely fine reasons but none of them felt fine enough.

Dans le nutshell, I stopped drinking alcohol because the cons outweighed the pluses. Okay that's not deep. But, oh look, here it comes... I also wonder if I stopped drinking because of my past relationship with alcohol. We have arrived. 

Looking back, alcohol has done me little to no favours. I don’t think it’s ever been a friend, or if it has it’s been a two-faced back-stabbing boyfriend stealing minx.

I blame alcohol for many of my failings. Yes alcohol – not me. Leave me out of this. How could I possibly blame that young pup, who alongside fellow other young pups, started binge drinking in their mid-teens and continued into university and beyond.

Drinking alcohol in excessive quantities was totally normal amongst my peer group and even when I started working, it was totally normal to binge on the weekends.

Now, once you find yourself here - 20 years or so of drinking later - it isn't quite so easy to see things soberly again.

But in the cold sober light of day, let’s say today (cue drumroll... the final day of dry January), I am actually quite disgusted about my past behaviour. How I repeatedly put myself in danger and relied on more sensible friends to look after me and then forgive me in the morning. Just because I was young, and just because I was drunk, that didn’t mean I had a right of passage to be a dickhead. A carte blanche to be a cunt.

And I wonder if this is partly why I can’t entertain alcohol in my life anymore – because even if it was only on the odd occasion, it turned me into a person who I am now sort of afraid of.  Or at least like to think I have outgrown.

There are many people who say it is our issues that drive us to over-drinking and that the buck ultimately lies with us. That is a nice idea – probably statistically sound too – but who doesn’t have issues? Literally, name one person right now you know that doesn’t have any issues. They may be big issues, they may be small, but we are all issue-ridden. Thus, dudes, there is always a risk that alcohol will be used to dull some of those issues down. And then there is a risk this might backfire. 

And yet - when I started drinking alcohol for joy in my late teens, I don’t remember many warnings about how easy it would be in later life, when things got more complicated, to start using it for its more anesthetising properties. To prescribe alcohol to deal with anything that felt a bit too rough, a bit too uncomfortable, a bit too real.

For me - the thing with anything that provides escapism, such as alcohol and drugs, is that so often my mind is stronger than the drug. Sigh. However much I try to put a dampener on my feelings, or pain, a part of my brain will recognise what I am doing and try even harder to get its message across. The reason my brain is doing this is not to hurt me (well this is my belief) but because it wants me to listen. It wants me to make peace with my feelings, and respect them – instead of using alcohol to run away and hide.

A few years ago I got to a pretty low place and I can't help but wonder whether this could have been avoided if I had never drunk alcohol. I think I would have been far more attuned with managing my feelings and wouldn’t have allowed my life to get so far away from me. This is why I blame alcohol, as much as myself. Naughty alcohol. 

The change

Now over the last year of boring sobriety, I have been acutely aware of my weaknesses and frustrations, but it is different. It’s manageable.

I think the one thing I have noticed since I quit alcohol is that I am much kinder to myself. You know, or hopefully you don’t, when you find something to beat yourself up with, and then that leads onto another, and then another, and then suddenly you feel overwhelmed by inadequacy but you can’t remember what started off the chain. Well when I’m sober the chain is chopped off very early on – I think of the first thing, perhaps a second – then I hear a voice saying ‘oh well’ and then I go on with my day. Things don’t progress to the point when I’m fighting imaginary demons or walking around with a brain fit to burst. Lime and soda, to soda and lime, that’s quite a remarkable achievement, don't ya reckon?  

I don’t want to preach about alcohol and everyone has to follow their gut instinct about it. Lots of people drink moderately throughout their lives and don’t have any problems. There are even some people I know who self-medicate with alcohol and that seems to miraculously work. To some degree. But I believe there are probably quite a lot of people like myself who perhaps just shouldn’t be drinking at all. People who would be able to moderate their thought processes, feelings and behaviour a lot better if they didn’t have to deal with raging hangovers or an urge to find their next drink. If they could perhaps open themselves up to a little more boredom.

Looking back to my lowest days, I don’t think alcohol was just something I used to deal with my issues, it was an issue in itself. Thankfully as soon as I cut down my alcohol, my depression eased. It was pretty much instantaneous. I could suddenly see things I could do to make my life better. That’s about all the evidence that I need to know about its dangers.

Maybe my sobriety is a phrase. I could easily enter into a more robust and less-sensitive period of my life and decide I fancy a glass of Chateaux Blah Blah Blah Number 7.

But even that’s a tad risky, isn’t it? Because, when you are complicated human beany baby, how long does stability of mind and body ever really last?

And being someone who knows how closely my emotional state and alcohol consumption is entwined, my second nature will always be to use alcohol to make myself feel better.

And in my experience it just helps to make matters a lot worse.   

Period drama

By Joanna Tilley 

Yesterday I watched this amazing interview with biologist Bruce Lipton. It covered all sorts of fascinating topics including the power of the body to heal itself and why we should be wary about trusting the pharmaceutical industry. It is really well worth a watch – so here is the link to the first half. Please do read this first though.

Lipton’s words resonated with me because I have become increasingly wary about relying on (or in fact, taking any) over the counter drugs and have often felt that if we sort out our minds, our bodies follow suit.

However, this morning I woke up thinking about one thing he mentioned in particular – the fight or flight response.

In the interview, Lipton describes how when our bodies are stressed they can go into the fight or flight response. The fight or flight response is an evolutionary device humans developed so that when we are in danger, our bodies react to the threat and prepare us to escape or defend ourselves.

The slight problem with the fight or flight response is that even if we are not in physical danger, our bodies still reacts in the same way when we are under stress.

So if we are stressed about a job interview or life in general, we have a similar physiological response to a caveman who is being chased by a grizzly bear.

There are many effects fight or flight has on the body but one Lipton talks about is the way our blood flows to our limbs – legs and arms – as these are important if we are to run away from that sabre-toothed tiger.

In order to get the blood flowing out to our extremities, the blood vessels running to our inner organs need to constrict which means that the blood flow to our stomach and core organs becomes weaker. This is why one of the side effects of the fight or flight response is to get a stomach ache.

So – whether it is induced by the threat of a wooly mammoth or the fear we will never meet the love of our lives – stress means that blood can stop flowing to crucial areas of our body.

Lipton’s words about the fight or flight response got me thinking about the biggest physical battle I have ever encountered.

No - it wasn’t a bloody battle with a sea dragon, it was a bloody battle with my menstrual cycle.

I went through a number of years – in my late 20s and early 30s – when I suffered horrendous period pain - the sort of pain that no words, however beautifully woven, could ever come close to describing. Let’s just say that days of work were missed, I was fearful of leaving the sanctuary of the bath and that on more than one occasion I ended up in A&E due to the fear that I might be exploding, or something. It was bad.

I should add at this point that despite using painkillers in the past to deal with period pain, I had developed an aversion to using drugs to deal with pain. I had foolishly or bravely (take your pick) decided I was going to go through the pain in a hope that I would learn something from it.

When Lipton spoke about the fight or flight response, it triggered my memory of the painful episodes I used to go through with my period. In retrospect – I think this is because I am now ready to admit that I was more responsible for this pain than I realised. Like so many afflictions, the cause of my period pains were not merely biological but psychological too.

Once upon a time…

There’s probably only one place I can start this tale of period woe and that is with the fact that the worst years of period pain coincided with the worst years of my life. (This was not because of the period pain – although that certainly didn’t help.)

This was a stage of my life when I was stressed/bored/frustrated at work, anxious about life in general, tired by life in general and spent way too many days hungover… in general. In essence – these were my fight or flight days.   

And this is why Lipton’s words hit a nerve with me – because maybe now is the time to take some ownership of my pain - and also to have a closer think about what was going on inside me. 

I remember what would happen. I would be sat at my desk, I would feel the first ache of period pain and I would panic. Instead of remaining calm, breathing, doing some stomach exercises, I would freeze with the fear that the worse pain to ever physically engulf a human being was coming my way.

This was the worse thing I could have done because I was triggering a fight or flight response. When I desperately needed blood to flow to my stomach and womb, the stress in my body was making my blood divert to my extremities. Queue panic, chaos and pain. 

Now as one of the side effects of the fight or flight response is a stomach ache (I told you that earlier, pay attention!), you can probably imagine the sort of stomach ache that happens when your body is trying to expel uterus wall lining with a shortage of oxygen and nutrients to deal with it. Add into the mix the fact that stress generally leads to a tightening of the muscles and for blood flow to slow down - what you have is a stomach ache that hath become a tornado of vaginal rage.

Now if at this point you don't lurch for the Feminax – the only thing you can do is work your way through this pain.

And here we perhaps need to think about period pains on two plains. ‘Period pains on two plains’ – surely a great name for a book?

Anyway, I digress - for some women a hot water bottle or a warm bath is enough to get through the discomfort. Anything warm that focuses on the stomach, relaxes the blood vessels and gets the blood pumping more easily to the abdominal organs in the stomach helps. As do warm drinks such as chamomile tea – but not caffeine.

These are simple tips to help women deal with period pains. But if you are depressed, stressed, confused and sad, it is more than likely these won't cut the mustard.

If you are at a stage in your life where you are overthinking, overanalysing and paralysing yourself with fear, I’m afraid you will have to work a little harder to get out of this one, my friend. But there is still a way out. Come with me.

Three things

There are three things that have majorly helped to reduce the pain of my monthly cycles – and have meant that I no longer live in fear of the next onslaught.

The first two, and in my opinion the cure to almost all ailments on planet earth, are yoga and meditation.

I am not here to teach you about yoga and meditation because quite frankly that’s why the internet exists.  I am also hungry and want my breakfast, so in a nutshell, the reason why yoga and meditation help is because they simply teach you to relax your body and mind.  

By regularly relaxing your body and mind, you become a lot more resilient to stress. 

By becoming more resilient to stress – you are less likely to enter into the fight or flight response. 

And by avoiding the side-effects of the fight or flight response, you can avoid excruciating stomach pain. (Am I right, Lipton?)

To put it even more simply – yoga creates the peace inside your body to stop any panic that is exacerbating the pain.   

At this point, it is sensible to mention that there are women who suffer from a condition called endometriosis – where the womb lining grows into places that it shouldn’t and sometimes wraps itself around our ovaries and causes pain this way. Some women have surgical treatment on their endometriosis and they have got rid of the pain this way. I value all women’s stories and we need to listen to as many as possible and then make our own informed decisions on these issues.

My story is that I was told by a doctor I had endometriosis and that my period pains were likely linked to it. I opted not to explore this further as I believed that reducing stress in my life could naturally help cure my endometriosis. Like Lipton - that’s the way I think about pain – not everyone does. It is my belief.

And thankfully I now have experiences that back up this belief.

Since getting into yoga and meditation, I have less period pain and more regular periods. I like to think this means my endometriosis has sorted itself out – I could be wrong – but a lack of physical pain suggests that things are running much more smoothly down there. I certainly feel no need for a doctor to go poking away in my tubes.

Warning

So – there will be some of you thinking – Joanna Tilley – for goodness sake, what is the third thing? My dear ladies (and one gentleman) – are you sure you want to know? If you have just about had enough of all this – you can leave now. But for those brave souls, please continue.  

Using yoga and meditation to become more calm, and to improve the connection between my body and mind, has dramatically reduced the levels of my period pain – however, there’s one recent lifestyle change I have made which has taken things to the next level.

Okay – here goes it - I did warn you – nine months ago I quit alcohol – completely.

Almost instantaneously I realised my periods were even less painful – and at the moment (prays be to god) I now have the sort of periods I could only have dreamt about. Every month I am winning the lottery of life – not being in pain!

(This is the part of the story when I should try to sell you some sort of product based on my findings – instead I’m just recommending you cut out one of the greatest sources of joy known to mankind. It's not quite so marketable!)

I don’t want to preach to you about all the negative affects of alcohol because that article is well and truly in the pipeline. Haha.  

But I do feel quitting alcohol is the final piece in the winning-the-war-on-period-pains-puzzle.

If I do have to say anything about alcohol I will just say that whether it is by giving us high blood pressure or the capacity to do something that brings us great shame the next morning – alcohol doesn’t seem to be great at helping us manage stress. It doesn’t seem to do us many favours when it comes to fighting health problems either. 

There is however one elephant in the corner I should mention before I have breakfast - even though I’m not massively comfortable doing so.

This is the link between alcohol and fertility. I am 34 and I have frequently wondered whether my period pains were just telling me to ‘get a bloody move on love’. ‘Bash that baby out of yerr’.

However, I am not so sure anymore. I now wonder whether my period pains were instead just trying to lead me to a healthier life. My depression was my mental warning, my period pains were a physical warning in case the first warning didn’t get through to me. Thanks guys.

It was during this two-pronged assault that I found yoga and meditation and then found the strength and courage to leave a job that was killing me. More recently, I think my period pains are just politely informing me that drinking alcohol is not going to prolong my fertility. When my body speaks to me – I have decided it is best to listen. This is why I am sceptical about painkillers because I think they just tell the body to ‘shut it’ – without listening to any of its concerns.

I read a piece yesterday by comedian Naomi Cooper where she was discussing all sorts of interesting things – such as society’s reaction to women talking graphically about their sex lives on stage. In the article she also casually refers to pickling her ovaries in chardonnay – Cooper says this in reference to her future ability to conceive children. Whether it was a joke or not, those three words ‘pickling my ovaries’ go a long way to explaining my thoughts about alcohol and fertility. My personal experience is that once I got to a certain age - ovaries and alcohol didn’t mix.

But away from the delicate issue of fertility as fast as we can muster - the main point of this article is that I think we have far more control over our bodies, and the pain that our bodies cause us, than we can ever understand from traditional medical science.

There is certainly space for medicine – especially when it comes to dealing with serious illnesses – but sometimes, and much more often than we realise, we are the ones holding the key. 

----------------------------------

Here are some things I have found that help manage painful periods:

• Practice mindfulness, yoga and meditation - so your body reacts more calmly to stress
• Make sure you do some exercise - for example go for walks - so that you get the blood pumping around the whole body 
• If you have pain in your stomach, instead of keeping it rigid, do stomach exercise by pulling your belly button in as far as you can and then pushing it out. Repeat this at least 100 times. It may hurt but it loosens up your stomach muscles and gets blood flowing 
• Reduce intake of alcohol and caffeine 
• Drink warm drinks (chamomile is great), use hot water bottles, take baths - warmth is our friend! 
• Eat a balanced diet - and eat more than you want to! I have found food helps ease the pain 
• Make sure you get enough sleep - and if you need a day-time nap - bloody well have one - without any guilt. If our body needs to rest, we rest 
• Find hugs

Lost in the Cloud

Over the last few days I have been feeling quite down, low energy, and very confused and negative about a lot of things. Perhaps for two very good reasons as I have been blessed with the double whammy of being ill and having my period (why do I still feel embarrassed to write the word period in the 21st century?).   

Anyway, I can partly put my low energy and dark mental state down to one, if not both of these.

But this period (of time) has also opened my eyes up to how I try to deal with these feelings, and in particular the role of my mobile phone. While feeling this sadness/darkness/not-right-ness – I noticed I kept looking over at my phone. I was looking at it like I would look to a friend. I wanted my phone to give me some answers. I wanted my phone to fix me.

Instead of sitting with my uncomfortable feelings for a bit, I kept grabbing at the black box to randomly tap on different apps to only come away with the feeling that my phone had let me down. There was nothing there that was making me feel any better. This only exasperated my feelings of loneliness and frustration. I mean I could have created my own entertainment – started conversations with friends on whats ap and received the stimulus from their reply – but I didn’t want to give my phone any energy. I just wanted it to make me feel better. To do something.

When I initially considered this, it felt ridiculous… But it isn’t ridiculous, is it? Isn’t it actually perfectly sane to turn to my only permanent companion to try to stop the dark cloud of feelings that were looming over me?

It is sane because I turn to my phone all the time. To provide entertainment. To connect with people. And I am definitely not the only one. On the tube, most people are tapping away on something or other, and its part of the way we function these days. Phones let us keep up to date with things we enjoy, they keep us informed when we are curious – but they also keep us distracted. Constantly distracted.

And this worries me because I don’t know if humans have developed the mechanism to know when we are using our phones out of necessity, out of boredom, or as a distraction. Or, worst still, as a diversion.

I think the problem with modern technology is that it fucks us up on multiple-fronts. It fills us with so much information, a lot of this negative, and quite horrifying, that this can trigger anxiety in itself.

I also believe that when we see a horrific picture or read a tragic story that the information goes into us, but it doesn’t come out again. I think we carry what we consume. So while Westminster was an attack many had been expecting - we are still impacted by its sheer barbarity. These days, though, instead of giving these events the respect and space they deserve, we just move on to the next story and the next distraction – whether it is a stabbing or a picture of a friend’s wedding.

But I feel there is also something else happening too. That as we increasingly focus on external stimulus, we become less able to process our own emotions.

And this is probably why I turned to look at my phone when I was feeling low. My phone does everything else – surely it can just flick me back into positivity setting…

The hi-tech and media industry know all this of course – they feed on it. They provide us with the technology and information - but they have absolutely no regard or responsibility for how we then process it.

And so the pile of information mounts up – day after day, layer upon layer, one huge hit after another. And somewhere deep underneath this massive pile of Trump, Brexit, terrorism fears – lies a much more troubling source of pain – our own.

The personal problems and worries of our real 3-dimensional lives. But is there much time to register these issues, and our feelings about them, when every day we are floating in a world-wide web of information. 

Well, there isn’t, until you get sick – and suddenly see your phone for what it really is - a piece of electronics.

So what I ended up doing was lying on my bed and thinking, or more accurately feeling. (Not in a sexy way.) I didn’t think about Westminster, I thought about visions in my own life that have stuck with me, the child-like fear on my parent's faces when realising after 30 years of marriage they have to build their lives up again and move on – of my frail Nana who smiled at me with love, as a carer took off the shit-covered knickers she had around her ankles. Well, these things happen darling...

And in amongst these vivid and painful scenes I would think about other things – career frustrations, my non-existent love life – family and friendship issues – why everything just seems so damn complicated. How not enough people buy the Big Issue. That I still feel embarrassed to write the word period in the 21st century. The fact that with all these thoughts maybe I would go mad. Or that perhaps I should see a counsellor. I’ve seen one before and it helped.

But the reason seeing a counsellor helped me was very simple – by listening to myself go on and on (and on) I started to realise how many feelings I’d stored up from my past. How almost every interaction with someone, every good feeling, bad feeling, frustrating feeling, guilty feeling, regretful feeling, was stored inside me – like a computer… Is there any wonder why some of us struggle so? 

And this is why I think we’ve got a problem brewing with technology. Because at a time when it’s already tough out there and there’s so many pressures on us to compete and achieve, we seem to be actively choosing to put more sources of anxiety into our minds. And on top of this, we have less time to mull any of it over.

I know from talking to friends I am not alone – many of us feel like we are battling to keep our sanity. We may have a roof over our head, food in our cupboard, and friends – but man, don’t you just feel totally helpless and alone sometimes?

So if we are over-stimulated, and becoming less connected to ourselves, what do we do about it?

Well for what it is worth - my gut feeling is that we can reduce some stress and anxiety by just giving ourselves some alone time with our minds. Just some time staring at the ceiling, staring out the window, sitting alone – with our phones in a different part of the house – and just be-ing. Yes, friends and partners are cool, but I don’t think it’s ever a substitute for spending a few minutes alone with your feelings – even if this is quite hard, very hard, or even harder than that! Or if they are nice feelings, be with those feelings too : )

Not everyone, I do hope, but many of us have an extremely deep well of sadness, loneliness and desperation inside us. But one thing that is important to cling on to – is that it is through pain, and really connecting to that pain, that we grow. We become more empathetic, more intuitive, more resilient and more beautiful.

I don’t know - but I fear that the more we interact with the world within our phones, the more we forget to tap into ourselves – to stop, to feel and to grow.