Do you consider yourself to have any mental health issues?
A year ago, I would have said no. I never had time to even consider the question really. Now I’m not so sure. A combination of lockdown and taking more control of my working week has given me more time to reflect and it is true I spend a lot of time worrying about things that probably really don’t need my attention. It’s hard to determine sometimes if that simply comes with the territory of being a busy working mum or whether there is more to it. It’s true that working creatively naturally brings a sometimes unwelcome degree of solitary self-scrutiny. Is it good enough? Could it be better? Have I worked hard enough on this? But I also work very much on gut feeling. I have no trouble hitting send because I have learned to trust my instincts and the knowledge that if it isn’t right, I can fix it. The things that keep me staring at the bedroom ceiling at night will nearly always be related to my children, the thousand little things I worry I have missed when I am busy.
How do you think getting outside improves mental health?
It’s freeing. The feeling of being outside never results in an empty mind for me, but it often delivers that vital bit of space needed to just think something through in a way you can’t with the constant ping of emails or requests for food or something else that needs to be read or edited, a call to be answered, a long overdue text response, a knock on the door, help with homework, a bed that needs making. Being outside gives you permission to ignore it all.
I run most days, cross country and usually alone. And there will be at least one dog walk too. I like the feeling of being physically tired as it makes such a welcome change to being mentally spent. On the days that I don’t get out into the fresh air, even just for half an hour, I feel the difference, the lightness and positivity seem to dip.
Do you have a favourite place to go when you need some downtime, if so where?
Even now, well into my forties, if I am having a really bad week (and that is rare, it may happen once or twice a year) there will always be a sense of wanting to return to my family home in Bristol, to sit in my parent’s garden and talk about anything other than the thing that’s bothering me. If it’s a lesser issue and I just need space then a friend’s flower-filled garden overlooking the Cotswold hills or a dog walk with an old London friend or dinner at the pub with someone I know loves to chat – I never particularly enjoy being alone though, not for long.
What two items would you take with you if you were shipwrecked on a desert island where all your food and water needs were taken care of?
As I never leave a book unfinished it would have to be the two I’m reading now: Dear Life by Rachel Clarke and The World at my Feet by Catherine Isaac.