When something just disappears from my mind after having only seconds before thinking about it is frightening, but it is odd how OCD thoughts never disappear from your mind, if they did perhaps you would not have to go through all those compulsions and waste your life. But seriously it is worrying. Just now I had an idea about something I wanted to write here and now... puff gone... Just lately my memory is awful; my concentration sparse at best, distracted unfocused. I am a hypochondriac so of course I worry about my memory problem along with the many other maladies, some quite strange and inexplicable for which I can find no reference anywhere in connection with any illness.

There is more going on with me other than my OCD although of course OCD is my primary condition - at least concerning mental health problems. But than again often there is a very fine dividing line between mental health and physical illness, in my case sometimes it is not easy to differentiate between the two. For instance my fibromyalgia which is still undiagnosed. Yes I definitely have this syndrome despite the lack of an official diagnosis. Why I can’t get a diagnosis remains to be seen as more and more people here in the UK appear to receive this diagnosis, even people with mental health issues which at one time was not the case as often it was considered that it you had a mental health problem than you did not have fibromyalgia or ME. I think that it is because I am not assertive enough, sometimes you really have to make a huge effort to get an official diagnosis of certain illnesses, particularly the ones that could in theory be the result of an existing mental health problem, as is the case for me. Although as I have already mentioned more and more people with a mental health problem seem to receive this diagnosis more easily than once was the case when I consulted my doctor some years ago now. I did try a couple of times when I first came to live here. I was not specific that I thought I had fibromyalgia and just told the doctor my symptoms. All he said was that he thought it was due to my depression and he wanted to prescribe antidepressants which I refused and explained to him that I was here only to check that my symptoms were not caused by anything serious as I had number of hypochondriacal concerns besides wanting to get a diagnosis of fibromyalgia. A couple of years later I tried again with the same result. Why can’t I tell my doctor what I think is wrong and ask him to consider a diagnosis of fibromyalgia? Perhaps I have lost my confidence because of the earlier rejection of this possible diagnosis by my previous doctor. Or perhaps I am getting so introverted and disabled by my inability to communicate to the doctor the precise nature of my problems. It is not easy in a five to ten minute appointment for someone who needs time to think to explain the nature of a huge range of diverse and not clearly defined symptoms let alone explain your ideas concerning the diagnosis.

My symptoms consist of muscular aches and pains, fatigue, migraine, headaches, IBS, strange tingling sensations, feelings of numbness, odd rising sensations from the pit of my stomach difficult to explain. Brain fog, short term memory problems and lack of concentration are also significant problems. Also episodes of waking in the night gasping for breathe, sensations as though I am chocking, difficulty swallowing and a number of other bizarre symptoms not easy to describe. When I first had an attack of numbness and tingling it began on my right side and  gradually progressed throughout my entire body. It occurred the first time during the night as I was waking up as I tend to do at regular intervals throughout the night. In a state of panic I went along to the emergency clinic at the hospital after speaking to the doctor on the phone anxious that I was having a stroke, although at the time I was perhaps rather too young for this to be likely. Nonetheless the doctor thought it necessary for me to come in for a check up. After an examination she told me that I was having some kind of anxiety or panic attack. But the symptoms are like none that I have ever read or heard others talk about in connection with panic or anxiety attacks. Over the next eight years or so I have had these attacks on numerous occasions. Just lately it appears to me that all of these strange symptoms are becoming worse. And I need to know why. I am also particularly concerned about brain fog, my memory, lack of concentration and an increase in the intensity of my tension headaches.

October 2nd

The greatest mistake you can make in life is to be continually fearing you will make one. 

Was it Perfectionism caused Beethoven to write the overture to fidelio his only opera four times. Recently whist listening to the radio I heard a segment about classical composers. It was stated just how much of a genius Mozart was, how by the age of twenty-one he had composed a huge number of pieces of music of varying kinds, symphonies opera and so on. I cannot recall the exact number but it was considerably significant. The commentator said when referring to Mozart that Music flowed from him. The rhetorical question was posed: How many pieces of music had Beethoven composed by the age of twenty-one. The answer was none. Why? Because Beethoven was a perfectionist. It took him ten years to compose his only opera fidelio.

I have written about perfectionism on this blog before only last month and I have written an article on this subject. And because of my attention to the problem I have now noticed just how significant a part perfectionist tendencies play in my life to further inhibit the quality of my already difficult existence. Clearly from the above example perfectionism can very much hinder your endeavours. Perhaps Beethoven would have written more had he not been hindered by the drive to attain perfection, who knows there may have of course been other hindrances such as manic depression and his increasing deafness, although he wrote his best music when he began to lose his hearing. It is believed that Beethoven may have suffered with manic depression, but often manic depression gives rise to creativity particularly during the manic phases. Moreover many say that Beethoven’s brilliant music was a result of his perfectionism. Who is to say it all depends of course on each individual?

For me personally and many others who suffer with OCD and related disorders perfectionist tendencies are a significant hindrance and the thoughts and feelings surrounding them are indeed comparable to obsessive compulsive type thoughts and behaviours which in themselves lead to incapacitation, anxiety, depression and procrastination due to anxieties and rumination. Often I am so scared of making a mistake that I just cannot bring myself to begin a new painting or a new piece of writing. For instance I am attempting to paint a sheep, a Herdwick sheep in the snow. I have never painted anything as complex as a sheep or any other animal including man. I have no confidence and the fear of failure haunts me as I know that I will be driven crazy trying to make it as perfect as possible, there will be no compromise, no excuses such as the consideration that because this is a first effort it is unlikely it will be completed to perfection. I have no natural talent, painting and drawing are a struggle, the more complex the more difficult it is for me. The same problem rises with writing, often I obsess and delay for months unsatisfied with whatever it is I am trying to write. It took ten years to write my memoir, yes a lot of that delay was due to illness and OCD checking and ruminating but a significant amount of delay was due to perfectionism. I am now once again editing my memoir still unsatisfied.

Its so boring, exhausting depressing frustrating and interferes with my OCD. What is it? Its decorating! :-( I just loath decorating, apart from a short attempt a month or so ago we have not confronted this task since the damp course was installed back in February. Partly this was due to the exhausting and frustrating endeavour of trying to find out how to proceed as you cannot just paint with any ole paint and you cannot wallpaper for about twenty-four months, at least that is the case for us because we have eighteen inch thick stone walls and these have to dry out. However procrastination most certainly had a lot to do with this. Just facing this arduous task which none of us feel able to cope with for a variety of reasons is daunting to say the least. Mostly for me this is because it interferes with my routine and precipitates OCD and is exhausting, for me this is not an easy task with all my aches and pains. Yes many women would opt out. A neighbour’s wife will not lift a finger to do such jobs but that is an old fashioned attitude and one that I certainly have never adopted. I would feel guilty if I left this all to my husband and son. Because you see we are all of us not well and not able to function in what would be described as a normal manner in most aspects of our day to day lives.

My son finds decorating difficult, mostly I believe due to apathy and depression but some of his less than enthusiastic attitude arises from what in autistic circles would be referred to as his preserverations. These are rather like obsessions but not in an OCD sense although people with autism are prone to obsessive compulsive behaviours and may of course also present with OCD as a duel diagnosis. Rather preserverations are intense interests on a limited range of subjects mostly only one or two. Often these interests are obscure and within a narrow range but this is not always so. Often people with an autistic spectrum disorder find it difficult to set aside involvement in their preserverations to do mundane and daily things. It can even cause stress and anxiety; tension, irritability, even depression may arise. I guess this is the case for myself also and it is one of the reasons I have given thought to the possibility that I am have in addition to my OCD some form of mild autism. But more importantly my preserverations for whatever reason they arise do tend to have quite an effect on my attitude to boring jobs, such as decorating. My main perserverations or intense interests if you like are my activities on the computer, particularly this website, and my artwork. My interests are in religion although I no longer have belief or affiliation with any particular religion. If you were to come into my home you would find that most of the many books on my shelves are about religion spirituality, esoteric or philosophical subjects. There is of course some overlap here with my OCD religious/ scrupulosity issues but that is another discussion for another time. However other more obscure or limited interests have arisen in the past when most of my attention and my reading would concern such subjects as: Tibet, its culture and religion, the Chinese cultural revolution, the Russian revolution to name just a few. During my obsession or preserveration with such subjects I will read little of anything else everything having now become uninteresting even boring. After a while another interest will take its place the former falling into obscurity and the facts which once held my interest fade from my memory as one interest replaces another. One of the most devastating effects of my tension headaches when the were extremely severe and prolonged, besides of course the pain, was my inability to read and pursue my interests. However I digress. Back to the boring subject of decorating.

For now the problem is decorating and our aversion to this task. Not only is the pull of ones interests a problem but it is the change in our routine that drives us all crazy. This is yet another aspect of autism but one which I think that most people have when it comes to decorating. I can’t think of a single person who has not complained about the chaos and disruption caused by decorating.

Have you ever wondered what you did to deserve something? Well I often wonder this, but of course shit happens, but why me...... Right in the middle of decorating I have to go to the doctors. It is not a new problem but one that began one night some years ago and involved a panic trip to the emergency clinic at my local hospital. I had woken in the night with a feeling like pins and needles down my right side accompanied by numbness and feelings of heat. At first I thought that I had been lying down awkwardly and that after moving about and shaking my limbs it would pass. Instead however it got progressively worse and included strange sensations like something rising from the pit of my stomach. I rang the doctor on duty at the hospital in a panic that I was having a stroke although at the time I might have been perhaps a little too young , but not apparently so as the doctor told me to come straight in to accident and emergency night clinic for a check. After an examination I was asked it I suffered with anxiety. Which after I had confirmed this I was assured that these symptoms where most likely the result of anxiety. (I bet the above sounds really familiar... well yes it does because it is included in the first entry. This is a case of how awful my memory is, whilst I was checking these October entries I realised that I have only just explained all this in the October 1st entry and I had completely forgotten I had done so, although there was  vague thought that I had explained this problem in a much earlier entry and who knows maybe I have.)

I was told if they recurred on a regular basis to consult my own GP. Over the next eight years or so I had the occasional attack. However a couple of months ago these attacks became more frequent and not only occurred after waking but during the daytime also. They were now accompanied by my usual lump in the throat sensation and other more usual feelings of anxiety, which for me are difficult to describe.

Nonetheless typical of my increasing hypochondria as usual I imagined the worse thinking that I was having a stroke. During the last three or four weeks they have become steadily worse and more frequent with three or more episodes each day along with a feeling of weakness in my right leg which lasted all day on some occasions. I had hesitated about seeing a doctor really scared that there was something awfully wrong, such as a brain tumour. I had now more or less accepted these where not strokes. I say more or less but this anxiety still played its fearful scenario over and over in my mind, an inner conflict of my trying to reason away these fears over strokes, as these attacks or episodes had become so frequent that my common sense told me that I could not possibly be having a stroke every day, interspersed with fears that despite the unlikelihood of such frequent strokes I was having some form of stroke each time theses attacks occurred. Mostly now I worried I had a brain tumour despite the amount of time that had passed since the first manifestation of these strange episodes. I had also read about mitochondria disease and noticed one of the symptoms was stroke like episodes. So I worried and fretted but hesitated to know one way or another.

Anyway to cut a long story short... That would be the day, I hear you cry! Sorry I cannot learn the skill of precise and concise writing. Last night I had a particularly bad episode and was still effected after being awake for a good number of hours. In addition over recent weeks I had experienced tingling and numbness in my right hand so bad it was making it difficult for me to use the computer and I was now worried that in addition to the already described condition I now had repetitive strain injury RSI. The problem was both conditions rather appeared the same but of course RSI would not be quite as pervasive to include the other symptoms . At this time I did not believe the two conditions where related. Suffice it to say I felt I had to go and get this sorted out, I was really becoming anxious. I was not keen on consulting my doctor because of fears of how I would cope if I were seriously ill but conversely the fearful consequences of ignoring this and hoping for the best worried me should the worst case scenario transpire. Torn with indecision as the clock ticked closer and closer to 8.30, the time I would need to telephone if I wanted a same day appointment, I did not know what the hell to do. I can’t begin to tell you the torment that ranged in my mind, thoughts vying with other thoughts none rational but nonetheless in opposition. I even considered the urgency to complete the decorating as an excuse not to go but than just as quickly my mind would tell me that the decorating was not as important as my health. Deep down underneath all the garbage of neurotic thinking somehow on some level I knew my symptoms no matter how bizarre where related to anxiety, at least these night time attacks not the RSI. Maybe they were part of my fibromyaliga, I also considered that I may have somatization disorder and I have considered this before, such symptoms fit and I had recently read about this disorder describing similar symptoms. But today I was scared I had had a really bad night.

Well it is Friday and thankfully the decorating is over after tears of frustration, even tantrums, complete meltdown and most certainly exhaustion. Not to mention some nasty thoughts about the previous occupants, the surveyor whom I consider did not give an accurate assessment concerning the extent of the poor condition of the plasterwork and the extent to which the damp course would be a problem, and the occupants of times past who seem to have bodged one job after another. The job is far less than perfect, none of us has either the inclination or the motivation to perfect this task. For us our perfectionist tendencies are reserved for endeavours that are of interest to us, for me my website and my painting. Repairing the plaster is a difficult almost impossible task not like icing a cake as I often used to say when I was trying to persuade my reluctant and doubt ridden husband that we could plaster the walls ourselves.

I am having great difficulty making this entry, the numbness and tingling is so bad and now there is a dull pain, but I push through this although if I do have RSI I should not do so, it will only compound the condition and make recovery take longer, months even years. But I must not panic yet as of course I have not consulted a doctor about this aspect of the problem. If this part of my life is taken away from me I do not know what I will do. My activities on the computer are the only thing that keeps me sane. It is of course not only the computer but I have noticed these sensations whilst painting and drawing. The odd thing is the sensations described earlier seem now to have been precipitated by my writing along with the RSI injury type symptoms although these cannot possibly be symptoms of RSI. I have the most bizarre symptoms sometimes that I could not even begin to describe and this is looking as though it is going to be more of the same. Concerning the symptoms in the above entry I still cannot understand that if these symptoms were due to anxiety why do they occur mostly on one side only? Although I have experienced them slightly on the other side it is unusual and the sensations are less extreme.

The mind however appears to have an incredible effect upon the body or are such strange unexplained symptoms with no pathology simply the result of our ignorance. Perhaps there are other factors involved which effect our health for which science has yet to recognise the cause. Some obscure hitherto undiscovered cause of illnesses that with our present knowledge cannot be properly explained. It took time did it not, centuries to realise or at least accept by scientific consensus that illness was caused by organisms such as bacteria viruses and pathogens. Perhaps there is a hitherto unidentified source of illness yet to be discovered which may explain these bizarre maladies other than of course the hypothesis that the mind effects the body. I find it so difficult to accept that it is anxiety that is producing such odd symptoms. Yes it is anxiety that causes the symptoms referred to as a panic or anxiety attack.  Indeed these symptoms I can relate to such as the lump in the throat, the racing heart, dizziness and so on. However these other odd symptoms are more difficult to accept as related to an anxiety attack as such. Come to think of it I am not so sure that an anxiety or panic attack is due to the state of mind of the sufferer, many panic/anxiety attacks seem to come out of the blue and are not always precipitated by a phobic or other fearful state of mind. The other option that such symptoms are caused by my mind in a psychosomatic sense is difficult to accept, it is indeed inconceivable to even consider that it is my mind that is causing these problems as they are just so real and as tangible as any organic illness for which there is an obvious cause. Yet at this time it is considered that ones mind can cause all sorts of physical symptoms which to the sufferer feel as real as any physical illnesses.

I would really appreciate some comments please. I am in the throes of creating a form but in the meantime please respond by e-mail. I would like to publish your comments but I will not do so without your permission. So if you do comment please indicate clearly if you would like your comments published as I will not do so without your clear indication that this is okay. I cannot provide the type of set up available in a blogger service but I will try to format a choice for you to  comment either by e-mail or a form with a separate window for your comments for those who would like them published.

October 7th.

Sometimes I think that because of my OCD I can be of little use to anyone. Particualry now that my condtion has become so severe and has been joined by other illnesses. Before the onset of this more severe period of my OCD and my headaches and migraine I used to work in the local Oxfam shop. I did this not as a distraction from my OCD because as you can imagine it was no easy matter with contamination OCD to work in a charity shop which sold second hand clothing, and I had many anxious moments as you will read in my memoir. I am now of course far too ill to engage in such activates, even if my OCD was less severe I could not be relied upon to regularly do this kind of work due to my headaches and migraine. I do miss this work to some extent as one can feel so useless sometimes, although to be honest right now I am so beset by the adversity of illness in one way or another that I really never consider the possibilty of doing this type of voluntary work nowadays.  However I can still make a little difference via the internet and one of these way is by signing petitions and participating in on-line campaigns. Some of these I will share with you here should you also wish to participate.

These take little time to do and should not be too much of a problem for anyone, but of course this may not always be the case, as during severe OCD and depression many things once so easily undertaken become huge tasks. Of course I ruminate and check and obsess about what I write in the comments section of the petition form, but this is the way it is right now when I have to write anything. But in the end I comment to the best of my ability and I am glad that I have done so despite the difficulties involved.

You do not have to make a comment you can simply add your name to the petition.

Here are a couple of petitions for you to sign, if you feel you would like to do this. I hope no one minds my occasional requests or rather suggestions to readers of my blog to sigh petitions. It need not of course be said but it is entirely your choice. It might not seem much in the great scheme of things but every action produces a result and positive actions bring about positive results.

The following is an excerpt from the introductorily information for this petition

To sign this petition please click the link below.

Tell Prime Minister Blair: Stop the Darfur Genocide Now Petition

Concerning comments I would really appreciate it if anyone noticing any mistakes to please point them out. Today I have noticed that the HTML version of my memoir is in a bit of a muddle, the formatting is all over the place. For a perfectionist such as myself this is anathema  indeed :-) I am sure I corrected this but it appears that this is not the case. Sorry for any inconvenience this may have caused and I will attempt to rectify this as soon as possible.

Please also consider sending in graphics of your artwork and other artistic or literary accomplishments. I hope to update my website again at the end of the month. I welcome also your personal stories concerning your experiences with any of the  condtions included on this website. Sometimes I wonder if any one reads all this stuff, although my statistics on the server indicate that they do. I might include a guest book at some point. I welcome all comments good, bad or indifferent

Despite the relief I felt that finally the decorating was over, apart from some perfectionist tenancies which are fading concerning the less than even plaster, there is still no peace of mind, such moments are indeed fleeting. And this is the case for everyone with OCD or other anxiety disorders. When one distressful preoccupation is over another takes its place, although of course after so many years of suffering with OCD often ones mind is beset by many worrying thoughts, frightening obsessions that absorb ones time with exhausting compulsions that at no time is one ever truly free of them. I guess what I am trying to say is that the decorating was such an arduous task that other thoughts have not intruded in quite such a insistent way with of course the possible exception of the panic induced visit to the doctor. When you have OCD you always have some problem or another, your mind quickly finds something else to focus your attention upon. I think that many of us with OCD also have GAD. We tend in more general aspects of our lives to be compulsive worriers worrying excessively over this or that, minor things that others take in their stride or consider of no or little consequence at all. A payment for a bill arriving late at its destination, a new neighbour moving in, being late for an appointment, forgetting someone's birthday, AOL, the British branch of AOL ISP,  being bought by The Carphone warehouse. yes really! The worry is that things will change and perhaps the service we now have will not be available. I have had AOL as my ISP since coming on-line in 1998. Someone with GAD will worry about anything and everything

Moreover sometimes you are beset with that awful free floating anxiety or a kind of free-floating depression. Depressive moods, or, as in my case as a sufferer of chronic depression, an increase in my depression, sometimes happen for nothing in particular. This morning before I had time even to get my bearings I woke with feelings of anxiety and depression, a different kind of depression than the chronic gnawing type of depression that is my constant companion. Rather it is a depression that inflicts its misery rather like an illness and rather like an illness departs when it has run its course.

However after finally getting going it was great to be out and away from that house. It is also nice to leave my son to his own devices, as we do all need some space and time to ourselves.

I had forgotten how lovely the scenery is as we made our way to the Pennine hills towards Cows Green reservoir, a favourite place of ours as regular readers to my blog will know. The clarity on this bright day of the magnificent scenery is a balm to the eyes. There are few tourists here now that the season is over, there are in any case few tourists here as most people are not aware of some of the amazing unspoilt scenery here with rolling hills, the fast flowing streams, the miles and miles of footpaths through unspoiled countryside. Here you can pick up the  The Pennine Way which is considered to be a challenging long distance walk of a of 267 miles. A rather too ambitious routine for me though :-).

Sounds idyllic but of course for people like me ones fears are never far away and I am tormented by many unhappy thoughts. This morning I received an e-mail from someone I knew in Sussex, a former colleague of my husband to tell me about a mutual friend another former colleague who has had several strokes, this lady is younger than I. My husband and I have known her for many years she had worked with my husband for over twenty five years until the firm went into liquidation. She is very ill and her life has been greatly marred by this tragedy and I thought of her most of the day. I also thought of the fate that awaits all the adorable creatures we encounter, sheep and cows. I had taken a book to read, Oliver Sacks an Anthropologist on Mars, case histories of neurological disorders including autism and a section about Temple Grandin an autistic professor concerned with animal science who is involved in work to make the killing of animals in a slaughter house more humane. I can of course never condone such practices, which to me are utterly abhorrent, however humane I cannot accept the killing of any animal. The description of the abattoir and Dr Sack’s reactions played upon my mind and imagines conjured by my imagination haunted me. It is a beautiful world and we all delight in cute little lambs which arrive each spring and adorable calves such as those in the pictures that follow but nonetheless sit down to eat meat. To me now at this time in my life this all seems so incongruous, we love animals, and we in the UK have a worldwide reputation for our fondness of animals yet we slaughter thousands each year. Tiny little lambs no more than six months old are taken from their mothers and slaughtered. The whole thing makes me ill and the thoughts of this tragedy haunt me and mar the beauty of this idyllic scene. I am amazed and fail to comprehend why we cannot see the horrendous nature of this now unnecessary cruelty and inhumanness. But people are simply not aware are they and for the most part do not think about it. Did you know that in ancient Grease despite the interest in philosophy that it seemed not to occur to anyone, not even to the great philosophers of the times that slavery was wrong!

Incidentally An Anthropologist on Mars is a fascinating book although some of the case histories are sad.  And although I do not agree for one minute concerning Temple Grandin's work in the meat industry, although she has her own perspective of course and considers her work as being an important part of animal welfare she has written some very interesting books and has some good advice for those of us who suffer with anxiety. She has also done much to raise awareness about autism. 

I am a vegetarian and have been so now for about fifteen years. During the last eighteen months I now on longer eat diary products because of the abuse of the animal that this entails. I will only buy free-range eggs. So animal welfare is for me a big issue and the cruelty inflicted upon all creatures causes me immense sadness. I have a dream in which no more animals are killed for food and instead return to their wild state allowed to  roam free over the wild unspoilt hills here as  other animals do in the wilds of Africa, America, Australia and other places of wide-open countryside. Few people who live elsewhere realise just how much open and unspoiled countryside is left here in the UK and it is not inconceivable to me that farm animals cannot not roam free. None are dangerous unlike man's best friend the dog who is not always everyone’s best friend; we have had a few unpleasant encounters with dogs including unleashed Rottwielers Of course dogs are not exempt from my love of animals, I have by most peoples standards radical views on the welfare of animals and think it cruel that we enslave animals including dogs, horses and any animal that we use for our own needs. Why people do not think it cruel to ride a horse or even make it pull a cart mystifies me. How can not people see that it is cruel to keep a bird in a cage, a rabbit in a hutch, a fish in a bowl going round and round and round often with absolutely nothing in the bowl but water! Now please do not release your bird, rabbit or your fish into the wild because now they are domesticated and they would not survive. Yes I know you would not be so silly as everyone knows this of course. But as I have OCD I am compelled to say this otherwise I will worry that someone will release a pet into the wild. This is the kind of fear that makes it difficult for me to write anything, it is not borne of egocentricity... who does this person think she is thinking that people would do such a thing simply because she suggested that pets should not be in cages. No the fear arises from my anxiety that whatever I say may have a detrimental effect. You see my hypersensitive brain can perceive a negative effect arising from any comment, however benign or unintentional. My mind can see how any comment could be misconstrued with disastrous effects. Now I feel the compulsion to once again advise you not to send a domesticated-caged animal out into the wild. Aaaaaggghhhhh these obsessions drive me crazy they make me look such an idiot and they do offend people.

Below are photographs of some of the lovely scenery in this area and some of the friendly animals we encountered.

Below are photographs of cows Green Reservoir and surrounding hills. The reservoir is on the Cumbria /County Durham boarder. It is a quiet and remote area of outstanding natural beauty. Even in the height of the summer there are relatively few visitors. It is a great place for those of us who appreciate a bit of peace and quiet.

For more information please click the following link:

Cows Green Reservoir, North Pennines, Cumbria and Durham

Today my sister would have been fifty-five had she lived. We are once again in Durham Cathedral to light a candle to her memory, it is merely a gesture of remembrance as I have no commitment to any religion. Of the cathedrals we have visited in the region Durham has a peaceful calm about it and today we can spend a few moments remembering the sadness of the loss of my sister. Fiddling with the candle to place it in the candle holder it rolls under the stand and out of sight, the moment is spoiled as I have those awful OCD religious ruminations that I have to pay for another but I know my husband will be stressed and reluctant to do so and the moment will be lost to OCD thoughts and silly bickering. He really does not understand at all about these more idiosyncratic types of OCD, but is anxious now about money and rightly so but it is and always has been for him a real blight on his life and since being made redundant from his job naturally his fears have been compounded. I rage at the perversity of life, how every single task seems so difficult, how OCD presents in anything and everything and I am not even allowed this moment to remember my sister without the intrusion of OCD type anxieties.

I try to set this aside and think for these few moments about my sister but the thoughts return I feel I need to pay for another candle or somehow get it out from under the table. I tell myself that I will pay for it next time I came in when it will be less problematic but the thoughts keep returning the way OCD thoughts do. We sit down to chat about my sister I see the candle under the table. Finally my husband retrieves it after a struggle. I resent OCD so much sometimes it can turn a small irritation into a huge catastrophe with dreadful consequences - at least that is the scenario that plays in my mind. My perspective of a tiny annoyance so easily rectified by simply buying another candle or not as of course the candle would have been retrieved and placed back in the tray once the cleaner had cleaned underneath, so really I am doing nothing dishonest although my OCD logic tells me otherwise. Scrupulosity is big issue anywhere but in church it is more so...well you can read all about my religious scrupulosity OCD in my memoir and my story. It is not the problem it once was, it is perhaps less pervasive possibly because I am not involved with Christianity or committed to any religion, but nonetheless this problem remains and interferes with many aspects of my life and this today is one of them. OCD can make any situation so much worse and somehow most of the time has been spent trying to work my way round this insignificant incident to which others would not give a second thought.

I should point out here that my scrupulosity is not dependant on religious belief, rather for me it is an innate way of being on which OCD has attached it self to exaggerate and turn into a convoluted and intricate obsessive compulsive-behaviour that at times has me thinking that honesty, ethical and moral behaviours are nothing more than a pain in the neck which cause me misery and I find myself thinking that wish I did not set so much store by honesty and always doing the right thing, simply because OCD has distorted such tendencies to horrendous proportions.

I miss my sister and my mind turns now to existential fears of death and considerations that I may never see her again. But I nonetheless wonder if she is here in some way, or at least I hope that she is, and knows that I think about her. My mind goes back to my brother-in-law Mike who this time last year stood with us in this very same place but now I can think only of how I miss him as he died last year.

To see some of the lovely patchwork Lynda completed and read her story click the links below. The photographs really do not do justice to her work, particualry her final piece. I am trying to find somewhere to exhibit the Elephant quilt, a craft or patchwork museum but such is proving difficult.  Lynda worked on this piece for her City and Guilds examination, she had worked so hard to complete this four year course in Patchwork and Appliqué against much adversity caused not only by her anorexia nervosa, panic disorder, social phobia and agoraphobia but also her heart condition. Lynda had never before achieved anything quite so significant often prevented from doing so because of the severity of her anxiety. At times she wanted to give up because she lacked self confidence; feeling anxious because of the social interactions having to contend with her social phobia, her anxiety and her overwhelming fear ,so this was a great achievement for someone so afflicted. This achievement serves to illustrate what can be done despite all odds. Often many of us tend to just allow these awful disorders to hold sway over our lives, run rough shod over our ambitions and sometimes we feel so overwhelmed it may appear easier to give in, but Lynda always tried as I always try for you need to make the best of your life as far as you can otherwise your illness will have had all its own way and you will than be tormented with regret.   

Lynda's Story

Lynda's Patchwork and Quilting

October 12th

Negativity negativity negativity!

I am so sick and tired of all the negativity in the media and in society in general. I have just signed on to the Internet to read the following on AOLs opening page “Size matters in car safety. Drivers of 4x4s or people carriers are 50 times less likely to die in accidents than people in small cars, study shows”

Do we really need this information? What use is it if you can only afford a small car? What about the environment and the effects that running a large petrol juicy car has? One minute we are being told to curb our use of petrol to limit the carbon monoxide emissions and the next they are frightening the hell out of us by telling us the small car we are now running is more dangerous and we are now more likely to be killed if it is involved in an accident. Admittedly in the complete article it was pointed out that if everyone drove small cars there would of course be no problem but this is never going to happen neither are we ever going to stop huge lories from speeding with callous disregard for the lives of motorists in smaller vehicles, bikers and cyclists.

Good News

October 14th

Do you ever get one of those days when nothing goes right from morning til night? Well so say the words of the song quoted from memory the title and singer’s name I cannot now remember.

Today was most certainly one of those days, it is odd isn’t it how some days no matter what we do from the sublime to the ridiculous, from the trivial to the profound nothing goes right and we are left frustrated and asking ourselves why. I do not of course have the answer to this, perhaps it is some glitch in the operation of our brain so that perhaps on some days we simply cannot cope with things that other days do not present such a problem. But it seems more than that, as was the case for me personally today.

Right from signing on to the internet the computer really messed up I couldn’t even sign on to the internet for a good while and eventually I had to restart the computer, than Microsoft had downloaded something and the computer would automatically restart again ! My writing for my website just would not progress with the spontaneity it usually does I had what only can be described as writer’s block. Furthermore what I did mange to write when reading it back during the usual round of exhaustive checking made no sense, nether did the entry made the day before even though it appeared okay when I wrote it. It seemed impossible to find what I was looking for on the Internet, I become frustrated, irritated.

It was my husband’s birthday and my OCD today was an absolute nightmare of anxiety and the preparatory rituals before baking a cake for him where more excessive than usual, beginning with scolding the scissors to cut the paper to line the baking dish, also cleaning rewashing the baking dish, constant hand washing, ruminating about the margarine being contaminated because someone had used it to spread it on their bread which had been defrosted and which I thought was more likely to contaminate the margarine. I had to make myself resist the compulsion to throw it way and start all over gain by reminding myself that cooking would kill the bacteria. We had no baking powder and had to go to the local shop to get some. We had to shut down the computer, unplug everything and cope with this the usual round of checking rituals before leaving the house as my son was also on his way out. More often than not we are out at different times and the awful checking rituals of plugs in sockets, the closing of windows and so on is not such problem but today right now in the middle of all this stress trying to bake a cake this is the last thing I need. The local shop which is really in the next village has just recently been open after weeks of refurbishing and the building of extensions for a wider range of products, but they did not sell baking powder but sold chocolate cake covering aggghhh Really frustrating has we will have go three miles to the nearest supermarket just for one tin of baking powder and hand cream which I was in desperate need of because of the dryness of my hands and I am sure I do not have to elaborate on that one.

Finally the cake gets into the oven but as I was preserverating (obsessing) on the computer trying to struggle with my writer’s block and stressing out trying to find pictures of snow to assist me with my artwork and my husband similarly preoccupied watching TV the cake burns. And so it goes on one thing after another. I nag my husband for being inattentive although I also was preoccupied. The cake is not a complete disaster the burn can be scrapped off and it will not be so obvious after icing. Another problem after learning there are 600 plus calories in just 100 grams of margarine and I have already used eight ounces in the cake and need a further four in the butter icing. I feel panicked. I have not paid too much attention to calories for some years now not since I was on the verge of becoming anorexic about fifteen years ago when daily headaches and migraine resulted in my putting on weight because I was so fearful that not eating much would bring on an attack. But now this sudden reminder of the huge amount of calories in such products leaves me feeling rather anxious, I cut out the amount of some of the margarine required for the icing and it spoiled the taste so all in all it was not the best of cakes.

I cannot get my painting right and paint it over and over. It is a painting of sheep in the snow. I am hopeless at painting snow or anything else from my imagination and could not get the snow to look right after several tempts. I get depressed. Yes sad I know particularly after all that rambling about perfectionism it does seem rather hypocritical for me but I cannot help the way that my minds works in this or any other respect. At least I have insight into what is happening and can be therefore less easily led away into this unrealistic state of mind. Finally after several attempts I abandon this finally recognising that to day no matter what I do nothing will go right

I try to cook my husband a special dinner but I cannot cook alone as most times it ends up in the bin. I don’t feel it will be much of a treat if I get my husband to help although it is more for moral support than actual participation as I am less likely to give into OCD if someone else is present when I cook or prepare food. But it is his birthday so I leave him in peace and try to go it alone, my son is out. You guess it. The stuffing I was using to stuff the peppers tasted awful. It consisted of rice flakes and lots of other odd stuff. I have never used this brand before, it is gluten free we do this now mostly for my son who is trying a gluten free diet. Anyway the problem was the need to add boiling water and leave to it to stand for twenty minutes before you either bake it in a dish or stuff whatever you wish to stuff, in my case peppers. Now just after stuffing these peppers the thought came to me as OCD thoughts do right at the most awkward moment possible that you should not reheat rice as this is a very dangerous thing to do and will result in a very hazardous type of food poisoning. Yes I know it had only been left for twenty minutes and was not stone cold nonetheless I panicked fearing food poisoning and throw it all into the bin after scrapping it all out of the peppers which I than washed under the tap than over cooked the whole lot to make sure the peppers were fully heated as they had been cocking for awhile to soften them.

It was the first episode of a new series of Monk; the detective with OCD whom I also think is an Aspie. We sat down and watched the recorded episode that was shown in the afternoon. I know not the way to have a special meal but my husband and son like to watch TV while eating and it does mask the sound of eating. I cannot cope with hearing the sounds made by people eating or drinking, the noise of chewing food ,of slurping, swallowing and other sundry eating noises drives me crazy, it seems so loud particularly in a quiet room. I can’t even cope sometimes with swallowing noises even if people are not eating but just swallowing as one does throughout the day constantly. No it has nothing to do with anxiety, simply irritation it drives me nuts and is just well... irritating.

The episode was the one in which Monk is confronted by dog mess during his investigations into the murder of a jeweller, couldn’t recall the precise scenario all I remember now is that dog mess freaking me out! Hard to believe but it did. Even thinking about it now the way someone picked it up , put it in a bag, sniffed it made me feel really anxious, contaminated . Yes I know it is only a TV programme the dog mess was of course not dog mess and even if it were the programme was recorded I was sitting here thousand of miles away. But it was the thought I guess, just the very thought of such a thing rather like the time many years ago when I had to wash my hands every time I touched a mock exam paper I was using in my preparation for a biology exam that had a question in it about rabies. I really felt soooo uncomfortable and this spoilt whatever remained of the rather messed about dinner that I could enjoy.

October 17th

Today was the first time I did something outside in the street in our neighbourhood  that would look OCDish since moving here. I had to spray the car door with disinfectant after having had a very stressful encounter with a farmer spraying his liquid manure. Yesterday while in the lake district we passed a field and just as we passed the farmer sprays us, accidentally of course, while treating his fields with liquid manure, fortunately I had closed the window which only moments earlier had been open. I cannot imagine how I would have coped had the window remind open as it was no easy matter by any means even with the window closed to cope with this although only small amounts were spattered on the windscreen and the side of the car which had faced the side of the field as we passed by.  Every time I got out of the car I had to be mindful of this mess and if I did not the thought would come to me that my hands had touched the manure despite evidence to the contrary.

Although it had been a pleasant day, the weather still warm albeit cloudy at times, and up until now not too eventful, from than on it seemed there was one OCD anxiety after another from cramped grimy toilets, that is when there were any toilets,  to dogs roaming loose at an old abbey ruin which we had visited. Three dogs in all, which were totally uninterested in us, they were possibly sheep dogs as they seemed so well behaved and did not pester us as often is the case these days with dogs particualry if they know that you are anxious as dogs do.  Nonetheless I was nervous as I am with any dog and these dogs were quite grubby covered with mud which of course would make matters worse, although the problem is not in any case due to the actual dog more the fear of it being the carrier of disease particualry rabies. If either of these dogs had come near enough to come  into contact with me my anxiety would have been in the extreme. I was by now very anxious as it had been a day for dog related OCD problems.

Earlier we had been browsing in a shop in a nearby village and noticed a large greyhound sniffing round the baskets outside full of soft toys and other odds and ends. I had been about to buy one of these soft toys but could not after this dog had been allowed to sniff at it. I was angry as usual, I get so angry nowadays, the way people behave drives me crazy.  I know my behaviour is not normal but neither is it right for dog owners to allow their dogs to sniff and possibly salivate over products other people will buy, particualry toys which may be given to a young child. I recall when my son was a baby that because he was born premature how it was impressed upon me that everything in his environment should be as clean as possible. It is a fact that  children under the age of two years have not developed a natural immunity and therefore any toys of any kind should be hygienic; in fact hygiene was stressed to the extreme. I was very careful concerning my son at this vulnerable time in his life. Reminded of this I could not but help think that this sort of behaviour was really not acceptable, the  young couple who owned the dog seemed totally unaware even though I made some loud comments. 

Yes indeed it was most certainly not a good day for dogs. Now I do not dislike dogs, although I have some phobic anxiety it is not just the OCD,  but I really do feel that the public in general should be more aware that many people have problems with dogs in one way or another. Many dog owners forget that their animal is a carnivore. Yes dogs have evolved along side man from wolves to the present form of the myriad breeds we share our lives with today but they are still nonetheless carnivores and many may be very aggressive, moreover, many people are allergic and phobic.  In the car park where we parked to use the toilet there was some dreadful barking from two spaniels one of which was straining at its lead, if it had been released it would have most assuredly headed our way as it's barks where aimed in our direction. I recall as a child being terrorised by a spaniel, of screaming hysterical while cornered on many occasions by this obnoxious aggressive animal which although it never attacked nonetheless scarred the hell out of me and may be part of the reason that I have trouble with dogs to this very day. 

On the way out of the toilet a women went in with her dog!  That was a close shave if it had entered whilst I was in there I think she would have really had a piece of my mind. The toilet was very confined, three tiny cubicles and two wash basins not much room for a dog scampering about. Now I really think there are limits surely I can go to the toilet without fear of opening the door to leave the cubicle and have someone's dog jump up at me. Incidentally the dog had to be dragged through the door it clearly was not keen to enter and I would not have been happy for it to do so.  This has happened before although rarely, however once something like this happens it can be very anxiety provoking indeed as often I imagine a dog has entered.

As I was leaving the abbey in a hurry anxious to get through the gate to safety where the dogs were not able to roam I dropped my bag and thereafter had to put it into a carrier bag to disinfect when I returned home.  The stress was not over however. The previous visitor's a young couple had left the gate to the other entrance open and one of the dogs trotted round, I panic it completely ignored us heading along the path which would lead to the main road. Now the fear of the dog turns to an over responsibility anxiety. What to do about the dog which was now loose. Gates are closed for a reason in the country and more so in a farm, everyone knows that surely. How stupid of these people, how thoughtless and irresponsible, the gate was not merely left swinging on its hinges unlatched which can happen if you do not close them properly, no it was left wide open. I could not believe it, angry I ranted about the thoughtlessness of stupid people. So what to do about he dog? I could never in million years cope with entering the farmyard or allow my husband or son to do so to find someone to retrieve the dog. But I felt it was my responsibility to do something, despite my fear of dogs and even my irrational anger at dogs I am concerned about all animals. Besides these dogs were lovely creatures, yes you can tell, their faces were placid even sad looking, they had looked weary and depressed until the gate was left open and one of them suddenly took on a new lease of life and scampered across the fields towards the road.  We followed in the car as this was the way out, we hope somehow to get the dog to turn round. After crossing the cattle grid the dog stood and watched us. My husband rolled down the window and shouted "Go home", at which it turn round and scampered in the direction it had come hopefully back to the farm. I had to accept that that was all we could do. I was so mad at least people, I mean who does not know that you should always close the gate in the countryside.

Any trip out of me is problematic it will never be otherwise while my OCD remains a problem, but somehow I do my best to go out the alternative of straying at home would be unbearable but sometimes just sometimes I feel a little weary of the continual battle with my mind and my body. I am always tense, on the alert for possible OCD type confrontation and other issues. I weary and stressed by endless round of needing a toilet, and the problems this can cause as those of you who suffer with OCD contamination know only too well.

There follows a selection of photographs taken over the last two or three days during which we have been out and about trying to enjoy the last remnants of the warm and pleasant weather, although enjoy is a word I feel that cannot feel use with any degree of accuracy concerning my own situation

Photographs have been sized for desk top wall paper. You will find more wallpaper on John's photography pages. This month there is a new selection of desktop wallpaper for you to download.

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We were very surprised to see this tiny lamb and her mother grazing by the side of the road a late arrival.

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October 18th

Most of us have far more courage than we ever dreamed we possessed.
Dale Carnegie

We are in Barnard castle; this is the name of the town in county Durham. Yes there is a medieval castle after which the town is named set on a hill overlooking the river Tees. Today we have come to visit the castle which is now a ruin, but a significant amount remains and you can get the feel of the history and to imagine what life must have been like than. I can’t imagine how I would have survived but of course people than did not know anything else the same as today we cannot imagine the future. The castle is set of course on a hill, it overlooks the town and the fast flowing river and if for nothing else it is worth paying the modest fee to enjoy the view over the town and surrounding countryside.

But life certainly is difficult for me today and I wonder what type of obsessions would have beset me in times gone by when my world views would have been completely different. In fact my view of the world would have been so radically different that it is not possible to image what life would have been like for people such as myself.  I would have however most likely have suffered with religious OCD as indeed I do now and perhaps this would have been the only focus of my OCD. I would imagine that in those days when religion played a more significant part in people's lives that most OCD sufferers would have presented with this type of OCD.  Perhaps I would have washed my hands over and over as I do today but this would have been to cleanse my sins rather than to wash away germs which few if anyone in those days knew existed. As we entered what was left of the great hall I looked at the picture of an artists representation of what it would have looked like, of people sitting round the table, communal eating on a large scale, the nobles on the elevated platform and others each side and dogs!!! Would I have been afraid of dogs, would dogs have played a part in my OCD? Dogs are problem for me because of my fear of rabies but in those days I would imagine few people knew anything about rabies. The bubonic plague... well yes of course wasn’t everyone scared of the plague, I cannot imagine the fear, the incredible fear as thousands died. Yes most certainly I prefer the present day despite its problems, but problems have always existed have they not, life has never been easy for anyone and never will be. But for those of us afflicted with mental health problems a new dimension of misery opens up.

Right from the time we set out on this and similar trips I have to fight both my mind and my body. Today there appears at this point to be hardly any sign of a headache but there was some signs earlier, a slight headache which lasted half an hour or so and which caused me to feel depressed and anxious knowing I would somehow have to cope, too anxious to change plans and not go out. I have the usual irritable bladder which sets in the moment I step out of my front door.

I am anxious and tense as we arrive at the car park; this is free floating anxiety. I have been here before but not often and this adds to this undefined anxiety. We had previously stopped in the car park near the supermarket at the entrance to the town to use the toilet yet now I feel again that uncomfortable urge to urinate so extreme sometimes it makes me feel ill, it is borne of anxiety and no matter how many times I go to the toilet within minutes the sensation returns. We hurry through the alley leading to the town, my son bounding ahead spurred by tension and stress always anxious always impatient it is difficult to keep up. Right in front I see something on the pavement, is it dog mess, or a trodden on dry leaf, it is not always easy to tell the difference, my eyesight is not as keen as it once was and often the surge of panic experienced is unjustified. Today this hesitation causes momentary delay in my reaction to yell at my husband following me behind to watch where he is putting his feet. He says he missed it but I am not so sure. I nag at him to pay more attention and remind him in no uncertain terms the effect that the event of stepping in dog mess, even well dried and barely perceptible dog mess, has upon me. I cannot be sure so for the rest of the day my anxiety is centred on his sandals which will be disinfected immediately on retuning home. But I do not forget about it and I am conscious not to walk where he has walked.

Our first stop is the local church, much of the old medieval construction remains. My son is interested in medieval churches so we enter although I am anxious as such places often precipitate morbid contemplations, existential anxieties, although such thoughts are never far from my mind they are invariably brought to the fore in such places. It is strange though that in larger cathedrals and ministers such feelings present less frequently and often such places are more peaceful. Odd I know but there is no logic to OCD, often its manifestations are incongruous, contradictory, one of the reasons that few people really understand it‘s inconsistent complexity. We are met with a familiar smell as we enter, it is definitely the same mysterious smell which I sometimes notice at home. Perhaps it is due to damp or just the smells of an aging building. A walk round the church yard does much to increase my existential anxiety: the old green coloured gravestones some obscured by ivy, a tomb with an effigy of the Grim Reaper would certainly remind anyone of their own mortality. I can never understand why people visit church yards to read grave stones, morbid, depressing. My son is here to take photographs of the outside of the church but I quickly hurry through anxious to leave these obvious reminders of my greatest fear behind.

We enter a shop selling paintings, feelings of inadequacy arise and I compare some of the impressive art with my own but there is the balance of the more crude renderings of those even less able than I. I hesitate entering any shop of this nature, I am self conscious of the social interaction, which inevitable presents as the sales person greets us with simply a casual hello. I am anxious again of my husband’s shoe although it looks clean there is still the uncertainty. I cannot prevent him going into the shop and somehow I have to cope but remain mindful watching where he puts his feet. As I climb the stairs to the first floor I make sure my cloths do no touch the ground as so often happens in such situations when the stairs are steep and when I have difficulty climbing them due to my aching knee joints. I am anxious glancing round not really taking much of anything in accept in the negative aspect already mentioned. I am always tense, rather like my son always on the move finding it difficult to remain still or relaxed rather like an animal always on the alert, like the sheep of which I am very fond jumping at every sound. There is a fantastic picture of two rams in a field of corn, again feelings of inadequacy arise. I would very much like to have the talent to paint such a detailed painting but doubt very much my ability to do so. Yes perhaps normal people have similar feelings but for people such as myself it is perhaps a greater problem as ones self confidence is harmed and ones abilities to use art as a means of distraction are diminished as apathy borne of perfectionist tendencies sets in. Such tendencies are becoming a huge problem for me these days and instead of being inspired by the works of other artists I become discouraged, even depressed.

We cross the iron bridge over the river Tees. I am depressed and thinking about death, my advancing age and that perhaps it would be better to die now and get it over with as the pain of all my fear haunts me day in and day out has it has done all my life, but now it does so with increasingly frequency and I contemplate the number of years that have passed and know there are more years behind me than before me. Yet I want to live, life is still sweet despite the agony of my torment and I dread the possible extinction of my being, even a state of being as miserable as mine. I notice cobwebs festooned between the railings, dozens of tiny flies have become ensnared, I have the compulsion to wipe the cobwebs away so no more of these tiny creatures become entrapped. But I resist, there are so many and I could be involved in this compulsion all day. Some years ago I spent some time wiping away cobwebs from a fence and it became a compulsion and like all compulsions it grew. My anxiety here is that I am responsible for the deaths of all the insects that die as a result of becoming trapped in these webs if I do not remove them. The thought makes me ill of these tiny creatures fighting for their lives struggling to extricate themselves. Moreover I fear the guilt if I forgo this compulsion and I fear that in some superstitious way something unlucky will happen. Yes to comply enslaves one in a horrid compulsion that can take over your life and eventfully confine you to your home as the exhaustion of such an endeavour overwhelms you and you begin to be afraid of going out even into your own back garden for fear of seeing these cobwebs as you become increasingly beset by the compulsion to remove them. It has never become that severe for me concerning this compulsion but believe me it could become so, any obsession or compulsion even just one can confine you to your home even to one room. I have many many compulsions it is an enormous battle, sometimes I give in, sometimes I resist. Yes indeed one compulsion such as this as the power to be that incapacitating, it is no easy matter, there is tension I have to try and do this while no one is looking otherwise people wander what on earth I am doing. The obsessions and compulsions change their intensity but never go away but rather are set to one side and become less intense as other more powerful obsessions and compulsions come to the fore or are presented anew.

Today I resist this compulsion but it preys on my mind nonetheless. I try to relax while my husband is throwing pieces of his bread roll trying to feed the ducks oblivious to the torment with which I have to contend, he has no idea of the misery that dogs me. I lean over the rail watching the fast flowing river, the bright sunlight reflecting on the water , it is a warm sunny day it is a day when one should feel glad to be alive yet there is always some fear, some anxiety, some preoccupation and the joy of the moment and indeed of life is missed. We follow the footpath along the side of the river I look left and right and continue to turn my head mindful of the possible approach of dogs. I stare at the ground the need to be aware of the possibility of dog mess. We see hens, cockerels and tiny newborn chickens. They are delightful of course. I love all animals, who does not love baby animals but my first thought is bird flu and I avoid getting too close as the birds scamper in our direction no doubt hoping for some food. I worry about harm coming to these vulnerable creatures should someone’s out of control dog come along.

As we progress along the bank and cross the road there is a gate with steps leading down to the riverside. It is claustrophobic, a small confined place in-between thick undergrowth and trees, there is no way back except the way we came and this makes me feel trapped, should a dog come down the steps there would be no where to retreat. So I am uneasy and therefore fail yet again to fully appreciate the pleasant setting, the sounds of the flowing water, the sun’s reflection, the aesthetics of the medieval bridge which spans the river and the remains of the medical castle on the hill on the over side of the river. Indeed where my fears less pervasive it would have been a moment or pleasant tranquil respite.

Climbing the hill I notice a foot path along the other side of the bank, a path more accessible, but fear prevents me from pointing this out as I recall there once being dog mess along the path during a previous visit; never mind that this was years ago now when we first came here on holiday. Still the memory causes anxiety and I reflect on how little in my life has really changed and how with the passage of time that it seems to me that nothing now will improve without an enormous effort. Feeling guilty and also feeling that I might be missing out on my endeavours to enjoy life I reverse my decision to not mention this path which the others have not noticed and suggest we go along it after visiting the castle. Besides I am anxious to get to the castle for you see my irritable bladder is extremely ...well... irritable. I feel so uncomfortable it is making me feel ill and the familiar lump rises to my throat. I know this sensation is due to anxiety as I have not had a drink since 8am and it is now past midday and also I have only relatively recently visited the toilet. My anxiety is enhanced by my fear that there will not be a toilet facility at the castle which is owned by English heritage. This can happen in some smaller buildings in their care in out of the way places or if there is public toilet nearby, so it cannot be assumed that there are toilet facilities.

In a flustered state I enter the gate, the first need is to enquire if there are toilets before purchasing a ticket. The girl behind the counter looks rather non-pulsed but responds that there are toilets but does not say where. I think she thinks I am rather odd, it appears that she gave me a rather knowing look. I know that I am often perceived as a little strange, perhaps it is the rather erratic unnatural eye contact but perhaps it is my imagination as it is difficult to read facial expressions and often I perceive some negative response when probably there is none. However I do know with some certainty that I appear odd - well with absolute certainty as a couple of years ago now I overheard a comment in a public toilet as I was leaving describing me as a strange lady even though I had spoken to no one. I am irritated that I actually have to ask where the toilet is. Why I hate having to ask I don’t know as of course this is need we all have albeit perhaps not to the same degree or for the same reasons: namely anxiety.

There is only the one unisex disabled toilet, it is occupied. I get irritated. It is however spotlessly clean but nonetheless I have to cover the seat with tissue and use tissues to put the seat up as it is easier to cover the toilet rim than it is to cover the seat. I notice there is only one toilet roll so I will feel guilty if I use too much leaving others or even myself without any if I need to use the toilet again as I do three times during our hour long visit. There are a couple of flies struggling to get out of the closed window, like the flies trapped in the cobwebs this causes me concern more so here as these flies are still alive and I feel it my responsibility to rescue them. I hate to see the struggles of such creatures and the tiny bodies of those who have previously succumbed having failed to free themselves. I rescue one but it is as you can imagine not easy and if I am not careful I can end up killing them rather than saving their lives. I get my husband to rescue the other. He over the years has become drawn into this compulsion but for him it is not a compulsion in quite the same way. He rescues these creatures despite the odd looks of others, although he does hesitate when if will be obviously noticeable, because this is what he feels is right as he too hates to see anything die even tiny flies. His actions and concerns however are not intermingled with anxiety and thoughts of harm coming if he fails his responsibility as of course it is not always possible to do this.

We wander through the remains of this once great castle, it is a gloriously warm day for so late in October. The grass although well kept is rather long and I get anxious about wet feet, my husband is still in sandals; I worry that somehow the dog mess if any will work its way from the shoes of his sandals to his socks and he will bring this into the house. We sit and eat our sandwiches I have to check all the benches to ensure that I find a seat which is clean. But there is always anxiety and oftentimes we have continued walking round whilst eating. But this time we managed to find seats in the relatively newly planted garden. My son drives me nuts taking my photograph. I have what I would describe as mild body dysmorphic disorder and have always hated having my photograph taken somehow it makes me look worse than I am when I look in the mirror. He knows I hate this even more since getting older and putting on weight, now I cannot stand the sight of myself. It is not meant in any nasty way, it is a wind up and we do such things to each other in good humour, but my son does not know when it is not appropriate and when enough is enough. I think this has something to do with his Aspergers syndrome and he often says the same about me when I am winding him up. I do not care for all these colloquialisms and metaphors thinking that it must be rather confusing for people whose first language is not English but I can not find a better way of describing this kind of good-natured teasing. He came to day to take photographs for his website and soon disappears to take these, he has suddenly a keen interest in his website and takes dozens of photographs for free download, in fact it has become a preservation. This term I have already explained before but just to reiterate to satisfy my niggling concerns that whoever reads understands this expression: preservation is a term used in autistic circles which describes any interest which becomes extremely intense, it is a characteristic of anyone on the autistic spectrum. Many people will say that there is no harm in that however the problem arises when the person is so involved with his or her preservations that other aspects of life are ignored such a earning living, going to school, cooking a meal, washing and so on. Kevin's preservations are not to that extreme but are nonetheless less intense until he abandons one interest in favour of another.

My husband and I continue our visit. I struggle up the spiral stairs. Often I am too anxious to do this, particularly if there are crowds of people, I feel trapped as often there is only one way up and down and the space is crapped and claustrophobic. The view from what remains of a Tudor style window affords a splendid view over the river Tees and there are views over the entire town from the battlements. I give into the compulsion to wipe away cobwebs from the window, but hey I did resist for a time and I only did so here at this particular window.

A final visit to the toilet presents problems with a tiny fly. I cannot remove it trying to catch it in a tissue, after several attempts I have to concede defeat anxious that I will harm it, I leave the door open hoping it will have the sense to escape. But flies seem oblivious to an open door or window and instead continue their futile attempts it get through the glass until exhausted they die. I obsess rather about leaving the door open, as this of course will cause other flies to enter and become entrapped. I asked my husband several times obsessing what to do, finally we leave and once having done so I manage to set aside this anxiety. Perhaps this is because my attention is diverted to another anxiety as we walk along the path mentioned earlier. I immediately regret mentioning this path, it is narrow and runs some way following