It’s a long time since I’ve written a blogpost. I meant to write one in the months prior to Clementine Florentine being published. Then I totally meant to write one for my publication week back in January. But both times I lost my nerve. At a time when I thought I’d feel nothing but euphoric that the dream I’d been chipping away at for over 20 years had finally come true, I instead felt slightly paralysed and my head went to a bit of a dark place. Instead of feeling like shouting from the rooftops as I’d always imagined I would, I mostly felt like hiding. (I did do a fair amount of “woohooing” on social media, but I didn’t always feel as joyful as I may have sounded.)

For over 20 years I’d been sitting behind my laptop, ploughing away at the dream while doing my day job and bringing up a family, etc. The endless cycle of rejections, near misses, silence, being let go by agents etc was very painful at times, but I was determined I’d get there eventually. And I did. But while the pain of rejection was finally over (for the time being at least), new uncomfortable feelings began to move in. A few months before Clementine was published, I started to panic. My work would be out there. I’d have to promote it. Speak up more. Be more visible. I would be seen. I would be judged. I might be judged negatively. I began to feel extremely anxious.

My head was full of anxious chatter, the kind of chatter that tells you everything you do is wrong, and your flaws are far worse than other people’s. The kind of chatter that persuades you to slink quietly away and say as little as possible. Navigating so many brand new situations – asking for a sensitivity read, doing presentations and author visits, making sure I’d acknowledged everyone who had contributed to Clem, not knowing if I’d understood a process correctly, etc – was mentally taxing enough, but all the more so when you’ve suffered from a lifelong affliction of trying not to displease others. Realising I felt raw, fragile, and incredibly fearful, I booked myself into therapy (not for the first time, but it had been a while).

I often feel tempted to share how I’m really feeling on social media, but something usually stops me – namely, the mental chatter: Oh shut up, Tash. Other people have it so much worse than you. You’re being attention-seeking. But then again, other people might relate to what you’re saying. It could help others if you share. No, just shut up and get over yourself. You’ll feel better in a bit and then you’ll be glad you didn’t yodel your shit all over Twitter… So how come I’m sharing today? I guess partly because it was mental health awareness week last week, and partly because I’ve finally become aware how much I’ve been struggling lately. I’ve realised that my mental health is as valid to me as anyone else’s is to them. I haven’t been doing so great lately, and it’s OK to admit that.

So I’ve been looking a little more closely at my mind and its chatty little tenant (who I’ve named Mindy – thanks to Mo Gawdat for that idea). And I’ve been starting to gain some insight into how the mind works by reading some fantastically helpful books, listening to some brilliant podcasts, exploring therapy, meditation and Buddhism. What I’ve learned is that my mind is full of thoughts that aren’t true. My head is full of stories that are shaped largely by my conditioning (messages absorbed into my psyche since childhood, from parents, other adults, peers, society at large). All our minds are like this. We listen to these thoughts and take them for truth. We don’t even know we’re doing it, it’s so deeply ingrained. So I’m starting to ask myself, “Is this true?”. (Eg: when someone doesn’t reply to a text or email, Mindy will usually have me believe that I’ve done something to offend them. I usually discover this isn’t the case – but man, Mindy bloody loves that story.) Most of the time I have to conclude that, if I’m honest, I have no way of knowing for sure whether it’s true or not. By continuously questioning the negative narratives in my mind rather than taking them for gospel, I can hopefully start to find a bit more courage and faith in life and in myself.

Ironically, this is one of the themes in my children’s comedy Clementine Florentine. Clem buys into two different negative thoughts: 1) because her poem didn’t win the poetry competition and the winner criticised her, she believes she must be a terrible poet, and 2) because her dad has started dating the mother of her school nemesis (aka Callum, the winner of the school poetry competition) she believes her family life is about to change for the worse. Clem eventually realises that neither of these beliefs were based on reality.

So I guess it’s one thing to know all this intellectually and quite another to keep putting into practice, over and over again, until new narratives and new neural pathways eventually replace old ones. But I’ve made a start, and while I know Mindy won’t change her verbal diarrhoea overnight, I’m starting to challenge her more these days, and often when I do, she quietens down and listens.

Some books, videos and podcasts I’ve found helpful:  

Welcoming The Unwelcome by Pema Chodron

Slo Mo: A Podcast with Mo Gawdat

Please Yourself: How to stop People-pleasing and Transform the Way You Live by Emma Reed Turrell

The Futility of Egoic Reaction by Eckart Tolle (Youtube)

Best Friend Therapy podcast with Emma Reed Turrell & Elizabeth Day

How to Fail podcast with Elizabeth Day

4000 Weeks by Oliver Burkeman