Give yourself a break

I am my own worst critic.

I know when I'm not working at my best.

This week, I've realised that I need to chill the fuck out and give myself a break.

When you work for yourself, you really only have yourself to rely on if things aren't going to plan. You can pass the buck as much as you want, but it comes back to you. I actually like this. It means that I'm in control of stuff and I can change it. I like tackling problems, I like making things work. I like learning how to do things better. That's part and parcel of running your own business.

But I still feel like a failure if things don't go according to plan.

For three days last week I was suffering from insomnia. No real reason I could fathom. I did my tax return and didn't have a meltdown, and everything is pretty OK. Better than OK, actually. But my wide-eyed little face stayed awake three nights in a row. And then I tried to work as normal throughout the week. It's safe to say that most of last week was a bit of a washout.

Yet it was more of a washout because I spend a lot of my time being mad at myself for not being on top form. I had stuff to be getting on with and I really wanted to give my to do list a sharp kick. Instead I had to chill out, read books and play catch up. I hate playing catch up. I spend the days in a constant state of anxiety. I rush. I don't do my best. I don't give myself the time to get back on track.

I just don't give myself time.

Next week is a big week for many reasons (if you're reading this on Monday morning, I'm currently giving a talk to a bunch of MsC students at Westminster and almost certainly worrying that I talk to fast). I've spent the day in a bit of a panic that things might not go as well as I want them to. It's all a bit silly, really. I know it's silly. Most of the things that I worry about are silly. A lot of the time, my worrying is really bloody ridiculous.

We put so much pressure on ourselves these days. We need to be the busiest, the best, the most hard-working. Work culture that means an entire office stays late just to be seen doing it, we have a strange competition over how many unread emails we have, there's often a race to be the first person to comment on an article even though you haven't read it all the way through and probably won't because we live in a world where the acronym TLDNR read exists. I'm calling bullshit on all of this.

I'm not the most efficient freelancer because I work four 18 hours days in a row. I'm not the best at my job because I work half of my Sunday. I'm not the best person for the job because I run myself into the ground. My work ethic isn't impressive because I carry on working despite being sick.

Maybe working harder perhaps just means working smarter. I think it also means prioritising. Freelancers always have work to do. Anyone who runs their own business knows that there's always more stuff to be done. But I'd rather do it slowly and well rather than make a massive shit heap of things in 24 hours. Some days are going to be busy. Some weeks are going to be manic. That doesn't need adding to. I don't need to make myself more busy, or work myself into an unproductive tizz. It's OK if I'm not being Productive All The Time.

I want to be proud of all of the things that I do. The writing, the events, the new thing you don't know about because I might not have even thought it up yet. That's my (on the quiet) resolution this year. To put more time and effort and more detail into everything. To care about what I do enough to do that and to only do the things that I care about. Sounds simple, right? I think it starts with caring enough about me to do it.

Whether it means I stop being so hard on myself and tell the judgy judgy voice in my head to fuck off, or even just walking away from my laptop for a little while, I need to start giving myself a break.

Flickr image from Jack Brodus' photostream.

January Exploring

Doing exciting new things is a very big part of my 2012. Saying yes more, doing stuff instead of curling up on the sofa after I've finished work and basically making the most of living in London. Here's what I've been doing throughout January.

Woman's Hour: I'm not sure your year can get off to a better start than appearing on Woman's Hour. It was more than a little scary, but such a great experience (and brilliant promotion for the book). I loved it. Done quite a few radio things over the last few weeks. It's a bit like lots of people listening to you having a chat in the pub. It's pretty brilliant.

69 Colebrooke Row: I know, it's taken me forever to get here. But I have to say, I'm not all that taken with this teeny little bar. The whole booking to be squished into a tiny space thing doesn't appeal to me. I didn't have the best cocktail either. It's nice enough, but (not unlike my old favourite Bourne & Hollingsworth), I think it's had its hey-day.

Baby Bathhouse: I think I like this bar. It's not often I wind up in Stoke Newington. The staff are so friendly (and pretty) but the cocktails are SO SWEET. Still, that just means more visiting and trying other drinks.

Whisk Squad: Ooh this was good. I've spent a long while insisting that I don't really like whisky. Then I'll order a bourbon cocktail and insist it's different. So I popped along to my first Whisky Squad tasting. It was in the Berry Bros & Rudd cellars (always a plus, I truly adore it here) and this event had a bit of a twist as it was in the dark. No preconceptions about whisky for me. Turns out I liked almost every single one we tried. Everyone I met was lovely too. Can't wait to try another session.

The Draft House: After work drinks with the Times Digital team brought me here. With their decent beer, bar snacks like Welsh rarebit and foot-long pork scratchings (nicer than the they sound, I promise) I was sold. The fact that the pub is walking distance from my office AND London Bridge makes me even happier.

London Planetarium: I've lived in Greenwich YEARS and have never been to the museum behind the Observatory. It's pretty damn amazing. The oldest thing in the world is here. IT'S A PIECE OF A METEORITE FOUR AND A HALF BILLION YEARS OLD. That's amazing old. My brain can't compute that amount of old. Also, the Astronomy Photographer of the Year exhibition was pretty good.

Westminster Abbey Cloisters: I came here on a photo walk with Conor (he takes better photos than me, go look). I have a thing about going through surprise doors and we discovered that there's a little cloister behind the abbey. Britain's oldest door is here (that's not four billion years old, it's about 1000 years old). There's even a cafe. It's pretty damn amazing here. I wonder how many people come to the Abbey and don't even know that this bit is here.

A Round-Heeled Woman: Alex and I picked up tickets to this show for £6. It wasn't my favourite show ever, but it's been such a long time since I've been to the theatre. Especially long since I've been for less than the price of a cinema ticket. I've never been to the Aldwych Theatre either. It gets a 7/10 - not the prettiest theatre in London, but it has excellent stage views even from the cheaper seats.

Chipotle: Curiosity got the better of me despite my love of Benito's Hat. To be fair to Chipotle they serve up a great burrito (excellent salsa) but there's no way I'm ever paying £1.40 for guacamole. I've been moaning about it ever since. The London burrito war could probably be won on guacamole alone. But not by Chipotle.

London Cocktail Club: This bar might just win points for being my favourite find of January (given that it's up against amazing rocks and doors, that's saying a lot). This bar is brilliant. It's not wanky, there's nothing in teacups, the staff are hot and they do an amazing bacon and egg cocktail. This bar is rocking my socks.

Meze Mangal: Frances and I needed somewhere midway between us for a Domestic Sluttery meeting (they're never, ever dull and always involve wine). The midway point between us is New Cross and we weren't holding out much hope. Meze Mangal was an excellent recommendation from Twitter. Amazing lamb. Brilliant. Cheap too. And despite us saying 'can we have a nice bottle of red', they didn't rinse us for the most expensive. They actually picked one of the cheapest. I'll definitely be back here soon.

Anything else? Loads. Can't tell you about the rest, though. Not just yet. I've already got a great long list of new places for February. London Cocktail Club have a new venue, Luna & Curious have opened a shop in the Sanderson Hotel (I KNOW!) and it's high time I went to Charton House and the nearby Chislehurst Caves. I'm getting my exploring hat on and I'm loving it.

Working with Depression

Earlier this week, a tweet from @badlydrawnroy hit Twitter:

Reading BadlyDrawnRoy's stream, it appears that he's been fired since telling his company that he has depression. 'Lack of activity' was cited in his formal notice letter. You can read his tweets to keep up with what's going on.

Now, Twitter loves a bandwagon and BadlyDrawnRoy is getting a huge amount of support via the social network. People are 'doing their bit for the cause'. But the Twitter Outrage makes me uneasy. Legal issues aside, the bigger problem behind the alleged firing is continued lack of understanding surrounding depression. Once BadlyDrawnRoy has an outcome to his situation, that will still be an issue.

Over a year ago, I blogged about having depression. In light of all the stuff happening this week, I thought I'd talk about what it's like to work with depression. Because I was threatened with the sack. More than once.

Illegal? Yes. Heartbreaking? Yes. Understandable? Actually... yeah.

As hard as I tried to contain my depression while I worked, I couldn't. It was impossible. I had a breakdown in my office. I'd been trying not to have a panic attack for two days. You can't hide depression from people that you spend eight hours a day with. You also shouldn't have to but the fear of losing your job and the fear of being judged by your peers means that you do whatever you can hide it. When things are at their very worst, when you're at your most scared that you're losing control of everything, the only thing that keeps you going is something normal. Something reliable. Unfortunately, the pressure to keep that secure is destructive in itself.

Often, there's also the issue of medication. The drugs I was on basically knocked me out cold. I can't do my job if I get in three hours late, completely off my face on antidepressants and walking around like a zombie. Depression isn't easy for other people to work around. It can't be likened to a broken leg. A broken leg will stop you from walking up the stairs to your office, it doesn't usually stop you from doing your job effectively. It doesn't usually mean that people you work with have to pick up your slack. It doesn't mean that your editor is left with shitty copy to edit because you can't do your job properly.

That's not your superior's job. It's yours.

This is when the ethics around a situation like this get hazy for me. I had days when my illness was so bad I couldn't get out of bed. Just couldn't. There's no explanation for it. I've had days (many years ago) when I can't write more than three words but I'm an office being paid by the hour. At the very worst of my depression an editor I truly admire and respect stopped commissioning me because I wasn't doing what he paid me to do. Your benchmark changes when you have depression. Your own level of expectation changes. Sometimes I was just happy to have written a full 500 words.

When a client loses faith in your ability to do your job, you're costing them money and putting their own job in jeopardy. Employers have to make reasonable adjustments to those with a disability or mental illness. Someone with a mental illness can't be overlooked because of their disability and you're not allowed to show favouritism to another employee. But when an editor receives thirty pitches a week you can bet your ass he'll choose the freelancer who can get the best quality work to him on time. I don't think that's discrimination.

When you tell employers that you have depression, I've found that they react in one of two ways: they're supportive and wonderful, or they'll ask themselves how this is going to affect their job and the rest of their company. Both are pretty fair reactions, but the latter is the hardest to deal with. Depression is unpredictable. I couldn't determine when I was going to have a shitty day and not be able to work - no employer can cover that at short notice over a prolonged period of time. And if we're being honest, they don't want to.

When I was suffering, I was really stubborn about things. I went on medication, but I didn't seek counselling. I'm still not sure if I should have. I truly don't think I'd have got better any sooner, but it may have made things a little easier day to day. I honestly thought that if I could work, I'd be OK. My goal was often just going into work. People with depression become massively selfish. It totally consumes you. It never really occurred to me how my actions and my stubbornness were affecting the people around me.

The ignorance around depression is something that runs much deeper than employment law. It's a major issue with our society. If it wasn't, you wouldn't be reading this.

It has taken years for my friends to truly understand how bad things were and it's going to take a lot longer for that person on your team who doesn't like you all that much to understand why you've got every Wednesday afternoon off work and why you were late in this morning. The resentment that a team can feel towards a something like mental illness might feel discriminatory, but it's not. It's wanting to be sympathetic to a horrible situation but also realising that your own job is affected by it. Why wouldn't someone resent that?

Whatever the outcome of BadlyDrawnRoy's employment situation is, I hope he continues to get help for his depression. But I also hope that companies look at their own policies surrounding mental illness. I don't think it's enough to have a sick policy, the line is too blurry. I hope that more people talk about their mental health without being scared of the consequences and the judgement that all too often comes with being open about it. More than anything I hope that our society eventually becomes willing to accept and deal with mental illnesses. That's the bigger issue here.

Want more information on depression? I'm not a doctor, I can't give you any good drugs. Head over to Mind instead.

Reading my way through 2011

At the end of last year, I promised that I would read more. That was basically the only new year's resolution that I made that I really wanted to stick to. And I did! I hated not reading, and while I've gone in fits and bursts (book writing takes up a lot of time), I've read so much more than I did in 2010. I've got my reading bug back and I'm loving it. So what did I read? Here's a little rundown of what books I've been carrying around in my bag this year.

The Book Thief, Markus Zusak. One of the best stories I've ever read. I nearly didn't buy this book, it was an 'oh, I need one more book' buy from the Waterstones 3 for 2 table (RIP). It kicked started my reading again. Although at one point I did have to stop reading and push the book off the edge off the bed with my big toe. A story about Nazi Germany - narrated by Death - is not to be read with a cuppa on a Sunday morning.

The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks, Rebecca Skloot. Oh, stop reading this list and go and buy this phenomenal book. DO IT.

The Beautiful and the Damned, F. Scott Fitzgerald. Such a disappointment. I didn't finish it and I very rarely leave books unfinished. I adored Tender is the Night and so wanted to love this. I truly couldn't like (nay, give a shit about), any of the characters.

A Handbook on Hanging, Charles Duff. One of the presents from the V&A after I did a talk there earlier in the year. It's a fun book, full of historical gory goodness. And people give you strange looks on the train when you pull it out of your bag. I read strange non-fiction.

The Help, Kathryn Stockett. LOVE THIS. Love. Wasn't sure how the film would measure up, sadly I think it misses a lot of the more serious parts of the book. Totally worthy of the hype, this.

A Thousand Splendid Suns, Khaled Hosseini. Oh this is just beautiful. It'll break your heart. It's beautiful and tragic all at once. I read most of it sat at a bus stop (because I was waiting for a friend and he was an hour late). But as much as I enjoyed it, six months on I'm having trouble remembering much of it.

The Lacuna, Barbara Kingsolver. FINALLY. God it's taken a bloody long time for me to finish this. I had a hardback copy (beautiful) and didn't take it anywhere. I got my hands on a paperback copy and read it in a couple of days. Love it. It's hard work, but it's excellent. And no, not a patch on The Poisonwood Bible.

The Year of the Flood, Margaret Atwood. Not my favourite Atwood (that's the Blind Assassin) but a very interesting read. Pretty captivating, actually. Atwood has a way of making one single event change the world as we see it. She writes excellent women as well.

A Week in December, Sebastian Faulks. Oh Sebastian, this was bloody exhausting. One of those worthy and 'important' books that we're meant to say excellent things about. It was actually fucking hard work for not much reward.

One Day, David Nicholls. My first Kindle experience. After the exhaustion that was A Week in December, I needed something light and this was it. I already knew the ending thanks to a bitch on a train with a loud voice, but I enjoyed it nonetheless. Not sure I get the hype, but let's blame book-ruining Train Bitch for that.

The Tiny Wife, Andrew Kaufmann. This book is tiny and it made me very very happy indeed. A adored it. Want to hug books that make me this happy.

Parasite Rex, Carl Zimmer. FUN. Creepy, creepy, crawly fun. I like learning about creepy things and this (literally) made my skin crawl. If parasites don't sound fun then you won't like this book very much at all.

Don't tell me the truth about love, Dan Rhodes. A birthday present and a thoroughly brilliant one. Full of short stories with the usual Dan Rhodes charm. Adore him.

Little Red Hood, I want my hat back, The Hunting of the Snark. Three truly excellent picture books. Little books with so much joy in them. I truly love a decent picture book and these are some of the best I've read.

Luella's Guide to English Style, Luella Bartley. This is such a fun book. I still enjoy dipping in and out of it. Coffee table books make me happy.

The Handmaid's Tale, Margaret Atwood. Yep, another Atwood. I really did enjoy this. Really really. But I've realised that the endings of Atwood's books annoy me. They sort of drift ambiguously. Not in a 'oooh, I'm left wondering' sort of way. Just in an 'oh, was that it?' sort of way. It's starting to grate.

The Devil's Dictionary, Ambrose Bierce. Oh, I adore this book. Cynicism. Words. Cynical word play. So much joy. This book lives in our bathroom.

Little Hands Clapping, Dan Rhodes. I only just started it. I'm already sad that it's the last Dan Rhodes book I have on my bookshelf. I'm looking forward to my train journey home so I can get properly stuck in.

Anything else? Shedloads of recipe books Eat London (Christmas present. Love, even if it's a massive Conran advert.) Tea and Cake (Did not love. Nice pics, obviously written by four different people.) Veggiestan. (Yummy.) Vintage Tea Party (swoooooon). A couple of plays (An Inspector Calls, As you like it, Eight, A Midsummer Night's Dream) and a fair few drafts of the Domestic Sluttery book, naturally.

I didn't read as much as I could have, but I've had a book on the go constantly this year, which has been really fun. I still miss out on hourly reading time due to lack of commute, but I really enjoyed reading more. Loved it, actually. I can't wait to get started on new books in January.

I'm starting my next book on New Year's Day... tell me what it should be.

Flickr image from Marguis & David. Nice, isn't it?

Performance

A while back, I decided that I needed to... speak up. To stand up in front of a room full of people and not feel nervous anymore. As much as I'm well, and back to being myself (and I really am), it's hard to accept that my depression knocked my confidence around people. Massively, if I'm being honest. The chatty person you see is sometimes putting on a huge act. Sometimes I have to force myself to talk to groups of people. I'm more standoffish with strangers than I used to be. I don't want that to be the case anymore. I hate it.

So, I thought I'd throw myself out of my comfort zone (the comfort zone being this massive fucking barrier that I'd started to hide behind). I stood on a stage at Ignite London and talked about science and smiling. It was fun! Really fun, actually. It was obvious just how nervous I was, but I did it and I was pleased. Public speaking really is one of those things that only gets easier the more you do it. Talking in an area that I wasn't comfortable in really pushed me. It certainly wasn't the best talk of the night (of course, that honour goes to Alby telling us all how stupid we are), but people enjoyed it and wanted to chat afterwards. My five minutes on stage sparked discussion which made me very happy indeed.

And then the biggy - last week I auditioned for London's largest non-professional theatre company, the Tower Theatre Company. It was a huge deal for me. I was terrified that I wouldn't have enough time to learn my audition speeches (turns out if you don't act for ten years, you forget how to remember Shakespeare) and I was scared that... well that I'd be shit. I was struggling right up until the last minute. And then I did it, and it felt completely natural. I didn't forget my lines, I didn't bumble through them. I performed them really well. I've been told not to expect lead roles immediately - my lack of experience in recent years means that I'm just not ready for that. But I'll audition for everything that comes up and hope that I'll have a line or three in the next show.

I was also invited onto Danny Steele's OnFm radio show this weekend, to round off my little performing binge. I chatted about the book, played games involving tea and got fed Krispy Kremes. It was really fun and didn't feel like I was live on air at all. I didn't swear and only let my competitive side show a little. (I won a copy of Santa Claus: The Movie, who wouldn't get competitive about that film of greatness?)

The thing is, when I do perform, I don't feel scared. I stop feeling nervous. More than that; I don't even remember what it is I was nervous about. When I was a shy little teenager, acting and standing on stage stopped me from hiding from people. Who knows, maybe that'll happen again in 2012. I'd really, really like that.

Flickr image from Comedy Nose's photostream.

Cyprus adventures

I've spent the last five days in Cyprus (and the whole of today on the sofa catching up on Eastenders). Impressively it was warm enough for us to play in the sea at the end of November, despite being just four hours away. I was invited by the Cyprus Tourism Organisation to find out about wedding stuff for The Times (lucky me!) and the trip was packed with awesome things to see and do and eat and drink. Here are some photos of the seeing and doing.

There are cats everywhere. Just everywhere. This one is cool.

I know cats are colour blind, but it's like they know that sitting like this makes for a cool photo.

I like this door.

But not as much as I like this view of Aphrodite's rock.

We drank wine. Obviously.

And looked at countryside like this.

Before taking in one of the most gorgeous sunsets ever.

I should definitely have been at home writing blog posts and book chapters. I'm really, really glad that I wasn't.

New blogs to read

My RSS feed has become a little stale recently. I head straight to my favourite blogs and unless I'm really procrastinating I tend to ignore the rest until I've got important deadlines looming. Then I'm all over them like a kitten on crack.

I flit between my RSS and Read it Later (which has frankly improved my life beyond measure) and usually cherry-pick through the most fun ones on a Sunday morning. Today I had some extra time for playing about thanks to the extra hour hour and I've added a whole heap of new stuff to my RSS feed. Here's what's in it:

Life! Death! Top Tips! Sara's new Tumblr is fantastic. It's a chronicle of mad tips that appear in magazines like Love It! and Chat! It's bloody excellent reading and involves unexpected uses for sanitary towels.

A Little Bird Told Me. I already follow Jen on Twitter so tend to pick up tweets and new blog posts there. I like this fashion blog. It's not too fashion-y.

Where the Lovely things are. It's all so gorgeous. Just pretty, images, nice stuff. Mainly US-based, but I don't care. Just want to look at the pictures.

The Bedside Crow. I adore this blog written by The Bookseller Crow's Jonathan. His customers scare me. Good job I'm not doing a signing there next month or anything...

Book by its Cover. This should have been in my RSS for ages. I've been lost in it for weeks now. It's totally OK to judge a book by its cover when they're this damn cool.

Bourbonatrix Bakes. Well, she's just bloody brilliant isn't she? Anyone who makes cinnamon roll cheesecake is OK by me.

Loads of computer reading today. Time for some book reading instead.