Category: Anxiety

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The Actual WORST (IMHO)

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I’ve struggled with self-esteem issues since I was a kid. I mean I was chubby and weird, so that’s not a huge surprise! But then in my second year of high school I got sick, and remained sick for almost two years, during which time I didn’t have the energy to be so negative on myself. And when I came out the other end I was just so happy to be alive and healthy that all those negative thoughts didn’t get to me much.

They slowly returned in university with the onset of depression and anxiety, and have weaved in and out of my life since. And as I got older, the negative thoughts evolved. When I was young I recall it being a constant fear and paranoia about what other people were thinking (which I know is a classic symptom of Social Anxiety Disorder), but as I get older it’s been more of a struggle with self doubt and self judgement. It’s a constant stream of never-ending negativity.

// I’m a terrible friend. // I can’t do this job. // Why would anyone love me? // I screw everything up. // I’m an embarrassment. // What’s the point in trying? // I’m a failure. // I give up. //

And the longer my life stagnates, the more intense the negative thoughts become. The more friends I lose touch with, jobs I’m rejected from, relationships I’m in that fail, etc, the more I start to doubt myself. I know this is something that everyone struggles with- I just wish I knew how they get through it! For me it leads to crippling anxieties and the mentality of ‘why bother?’ and assumptions, that are correct in my head (and maybe in reality).

// Why bother applying for this job because I’m not going to get it. // Why bother trying to stay in touch with this friend because they clearly don’t want me in their life. // Why bother trying to date because no one in their right mind would ever be interested in me. // Why bother trying this or that because I’m only going to fail. //

I let myself fail before I even try. Sure, there are a lot of things I’ve done, even when they’ve scared me. Many times even because they scared me. But in my mind everything I’ve done has been a failure in its own way. University and grad school, moving abroad, travelling, projects- all the things that people tell me are accomplishments- I’ve never seen them as that. I focus on everything in those experiences that went wrong, and how that was all my fault and I should have done better. And I use them as excuses not to try new things.

I got thinking about this because few days ago I had a job application that asked me what other people like or admire about me. Not knowing how to answer, I decided to ask on Facebook. People were very kind in their answers, but they were difficult for me to read because I don’t believe them about myself. I wish beyond reason that I was courageous, or kind, or determined. But I’m not. Or I’m not enough of those things. Enough of what, I’m not even sure. But there’s something missing.

I don’t expect to ever feel “I’m awesome!”, but I’d like to find a way to stop holding myself back.

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Failed Accomplishments

I started working in March and thought it was going well. In fact I was beginning to feel quite proud of myself. I made it through my shirts with little to no issues, wasn’t calling in sick, was adjusting to the new routine. It was a massive improvement from my last few jobs, and I was starting to feel like maybe I was finally ready to look for permanent employment in my field.

But then I was asked into the managers office on Friday to “discuss my breakdowns”. Now, I have Panic Disorder, I’ve made no secret of this. But in saying that, I’ve only had 2 panic attacks at work since starting nearly 3 months ago. TWO. Both of which were short lived, and did not effect my job performance or duties. As they were happening I simply took a moment out, got a hold of myself, and went back. It was no big deal. Or so I thought…

It turns out my coworkers have been going to my manager with all sorts of stories. He heard from someone that I “threatened to quit if I don’t get more hours” (definitely didn’t happen), and that I “wanted fewer hours” from someone else. Someone said I was “too emotional and easily overwhelmed” (again, 2 panic attacks in 3 months- that’s a huge step for me), and someone else wants to keep me off busy shifts.

Now, I left meeting with two main thoughts: 1. I’m working in a gossip driven environment where anything and everything one says will be misconstrued and twisted, leaving me with no desire to ever have a discussion with anyone there ever again; and 2. I’m once again being slapped in the face with the reality of my standards vs their standards. What I see as accomplishments, they see as failures.

I’ve long ago accepted the simple fact that my life and accomplishments will be on a different scale from the societal norms, but I continue to struggle with how to find my fit in the larger picture. How do I find success and a sense of purpose when opportunities crash with the disparity? Because while my achievements are enough for me, they’re meaningless to them. And to survive in this world it feels like I need to reach their level. Is there truly a way to manage expectations when it comes to employment?

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Blog For Mental Health 2015

I’m thrilled to announce that I’m taking part in the Blog For Mental Health 2015!

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“I pledge my commitment to the Blog for Mental Health 2015 Project. I will blog about mental health topics not only for myself, but for others. By displaying this badge, I show my pride, dedication, and acceptance for mental health. I use this to promote mental health education in the struggle to erase stigma.”

My Story

I’ve always been anxious and moody, even as a child. But it was never to an extent that affected my daily life, nor did it hinder or alter my decision making or thought processes. Any recollection I have of being particularly emotional or frightened were in situations where such reactions were understandable: death, assault, dying.

I was always relatively fine though. Introverted, emotional, and weird, but that was just me. When I was 18 I went off to my first year of university in England and had a ball. It had its ups-and-downs, but they weren’t much different than what everyone else was going through (well, aside from that time I was quarantined in the hospital!). I spent the first couple of months being mildly homesick, but by New Years was loving it, wanting to stay there forever.

First year came to an end and I made a decision to transfer schools in order to pursue a particular (and, at the time, rare) program. I would have finished off my degree in Kingston, but instead decided to head to Nova Scotia. Unfortunately, just a couple of months in the program was cancelled, and I started to change. I didn’t know what was wrong with me, other than I miserable. And that it continued to get worse and worse. Everything became so incredibly difficult. Reading, writing, eating, getting out bed. Some days I just couldn’t. I was embarrassed and confused and alone. I once tried to explain to my mom what I was feeling, and she told me just to work my way through it. I remember being so angry and upset because that’s what I was trying to do and it wasn’t working. So, I unplugged my phone and went to bed for 2 days.

As parents do when their child is 1000 miles away, showing signs of severe emotional instability, and not answering the phone, they got a hold of the uni. My RA was alerted and came to check on me. I can’t even remember her name, but she was incredibly nice and encouraged me to go to the health centre. I eventually did, completely mortified. I don’t know what exactly I told the doctors, but they gave me medication and set me up with regular counselling.

Doctor # 1 / Diagnosis: Clinical Depression.

Things shifted back and forth after that. I’d start to feel a bit better and then not. By the end of the year I was still deeply depressed, and had flunked (or nearly flunked) several classes. When I moved home in the spring I told my mom I couldn’t go back there. Still not quite understanding what I was going through, her reaction was “well, you need to go somewhere“, at which time I applied to Brock.

I spent that summer (’07) working several jobs, visiting doctors, and discovering The Office. I know it’s cheesy as hell, but I still credit TO with helping me through that time. In the months that preceded I’d reached the point where I just didn’t want to live anymore. And to find something that brought me some amount of joy after nearly a year of misery… Well, I clung to it, and I clung hard.

I went back to uni that autumn, made some wonderful friends, and eventually, finally started feeling some version of “normal” again. I was on and off of various medications for the following year, all to varying degrees of success. Of course, with depression/anxiety meds you tend to determine if you stay on them or not based on the side effects. Some make you stay awake for 48 hours straight, others make you gain 30 lbs.

Unfortunately by 4th year things started to take a turn again. Thanks to spring/evening courses I had been able to catch up on my credits, so by winter I was eligible to graduate with a Pass. I was disappointed in myself for not getting a 4 Year Honours degree, but I’d become familiar with my limits, and knew by that point I’d reached them. So, I quit while I was ahead and in Feb 2009 was issued a BA.

I spent the next two and a half years working, travelling, medication hopping, and taking a few classes. During that time the depression had eased off, but the anxiety had swooped in. I’d started experiencing bad panic attacks while at Brock, which continued after graduating. Though it wasn’t until after that the debilitating daily anxiety really hit me. Getting attacks at the thought of leaving the house, or having to use a phone? It was exhausting. It is exhausting.

Doctor # 2 / Diagnosis: Generalized Anxiety Disorder.

In early 2011 I was working in a contact centre (email based) and completely fed up with the state of my life. Having found a postgrad program that I was interested in in Toronto, I decided I’d head back to school. Sadly, it turns out that getting through school with debilitating anxiety is just as (if not more) challenging than getting through school with depression. But, the anxiety had the bonus of just really pissing me off, and making me that much more determined to go through with something (as opposed to depression, which makes me unmotivated, lack focus, not care, etc).

Doctor #3 / Diagnosis: Borderline Personality Disorder.

In powering through I started to experience severe daily attacks and took on several terrible, and sometimes dangerous, coping mechanisms. I’m still not at a point of being able to openly discuss the latter, it’s far too difficult to get into. Suffice to say, I spent most of grad school as an anti-social, anxiety ridden, mess. Though I somehow made it through the coursework successfully. It still kind of bothers me that most of my classmates probably just saw me as that weird, asshole girl in the corner, but many have been kind enough to listen to me speak / write about my anxiety, and hopefully realize that wasn’t really me.

After completing the coursework, the final requirement of the postgrad was several hundred work experience hours. Feeling emboldened with the recent success, and still wildly angry at / in rebellion against my anxiety, I decided to move back to England. “Don’t want me to leave the house, anxiety? Well, suck it- I’m moving across the ocean!” Or something like that.

So, in late summer 2012, off I went. I don’t think I would have survived my first few months there had it not been for the unreasonably generous hospitality of a friend and her mother. Though my mental health issues proved to be too much of a strain and our friendship quickly dissolved, I still remain immeasurably grateful to them for their kindness. I was able take my time in learning the new city, finding work, finding lodging. As a result by my 4 month anniversary I was working an exciting job, living comfortably, and finding myself quite content. The anxiety was still burdensome, but I was determined to find a way to live with it, even if it meant crying and hyperventilating on public transit regularly.

Doctor #4 / Social Anxiety Disorder.

However, as happens, life had other plans. In the new year my physical health started to deteriorate. My lungs, kidneys, and liver had all gone haywire. My white count was through the roof. I learned then that having a fever can have an enormous impact on my anxiety. And after frequent doctors visits and no real answers, I decided I should go home. I felt terrible, and working had become more and more difficult. Back across the ocean I went…

After only 48 hours back in Canada I found myself in the ER with a doctor telling me I should be dead. Again. And thus began my Toxic Summer. (Brief rundown: The medication for my auto-immune disease had built up in my system, slowly poisoning me, deteriorating my organs, etc.) I then spent much of the next few months in bed, and most anxiety/depression stuff was put on the back burner.

By the autumn I was feeling better than I had in years (it’s nice how being healthy does that!) and was ready to take on the world again. I headed back to London, got my old job back, found a new place to live, and started the search for an internship. I also finally found an anxiety medication that worked. I didn’t have panic attacks for months. MONTHS. It was glorious!

In that time I even managed to finish grad school. Of course, my luck being what it is, there was a clerical error that resulted in me not being allowed to officially graduate for another 7 months, but, that’s neither here not there.

In summer 2014 I moved back to Canada and started figuring out what to do with my life. However, after months of rejection and getting nowhere, the anxiety and depression returned.

Doctor # 5 / Diagnosis: Panic Disorder, Agoraphobia.

In January of this year I started an outpatient program. I’m seeing a psychiatrist, several social workers, an individual counsellor, and am in an Anxiety and Panic Management group. I’m doing better than I was, but still not great.

This past week the social workers who run the group session pulled me aside. They said they’ve been observing me for the past couple of months and believe my anxiety is too severe to fully benefit from the program I’m currently on. They recommend an inpatient program. Upon hearing this news I completely broke down. I still don’t know what to think or where to go with such a recommendation.

And that is where I am. 9 years, more aware, more comfortable speaking openly about this, but still completely and utterly lost.

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Life, Love, and CNN

As many of you know my life is vast stretches of boredom punctuated my moments of random and moderately exciting events. (Yes, I altered the old war adage there, sue me.) Aside from the drunken woman inviting me to hang with Meryl Streep in November, not much has been happening as of late. I’ve been sick, unable to find a job, and generally just blah on the current state of things.

Though in January I decided to make the best of the blah, and have gone on a bit of self-improvement kick. I’ve been seeing a counsellor and recently began taking part in an ‘Anxiety and Panic Management’ group. I figured it’s time to get this Panic Disorder under control, so it doesn’t kick my butt quite as badly when I finally do find permanent work. I’ve also decided to give the whole healthy living thing a go (it’s all the rage, I hear) and joined a gym. I had my first session this morning with my dad’s personal trainer. It was painful (literally) but I’m going to do my best to keep it up. I think my dad’s persistence will help keep me in line.

I’ve also been doing some freelance comms work. I’m taking payment in the form of home-cooked meals, handmade gifts, sneakers, and rides, but at least it’s experience. And it’s keeping me busy, which is much needed.

In other news- Two loves of my life had birthdays this month. Sir Percy turned one, and my BFF Jacob is seven! Time sure does fly.

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Percy’s party was this past weekend, and we’re celebrating Jacob’s birthday in a few days. He’s requested to spend the night in hotel rather than have a party, and I’ve been invited to join. I’m excited to spend the special day with him and mum.

Going back to my original statement about bits of random excitement- I actually was hit with such a moment last week. It was no Meryl moment (really, what could top that?), but it was still pretty cool. I was contacted by CNN who asked if they could use some of my photos. It started out just on their iReport section, but the photos were liked by Travel department, who used them in an article. As a result I got a shout-out on CNN.com:

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Ah, my 15 minutes of fame! How fun you were.

Now back to the monotony. Oh, and I’m still waiting to hear about my eyes. //Groans in frustration//

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Shrinking World

After months of fighting, begging, and waiting I have finally started an OHIP covered treatment program for all the anxiety/panic issues I’ve been dealing with. The next few months are going to be rough, but I’ll be working with a team from a few different outpatient clinics and health centres in the area. Last week I met with a psychiatrist and a social worker (separate services) for assessment, and both agreed to continue working with me. OHIP only covers a handful of sessions with each, but I’m hopeful that even the short time will be of help. They’ve both also mentioned options for services following their own, ones that they can get me into – therapy, panic support counselling, anxiety wellness group. I finally feel like I’ve been able to gain access to this seemingly impenetrable system after 8 long years.

The timing of this is equally perfect and horrible. You see, for as long as I’ve been dealing with these issues, I’ve never had my world shrink down to it’s current extreme. My anxiety may have been bad in the past, but school and work and life always forced me to keep my bubble large and rather elasticized. There was always the occasional bad day where I just couldn’t, but most of the time I’d take a deep breath and step out into the world. If need be I’d go out to my car or into a stairwell to have a panic attack or cry or shout in frustration. But, I was still out there, moving, interacting.

But I don’t have that anymore. I don’t have school or work or life. In the spring my bubble was the whole of central London. In the summer it was the spaces (and walking route between) home and work. Now it’s shrunk to the second floor of the house. The world outside the bubble feels dangerous, filled with unpredictability and discomfort. Everything has the potential to set me off, to make me lose myself in a space that is not safe, and that’s terrifying.

I wasn’t familiar with the idea of the shrinking world until recently (at least not consciously), but it’s a shift I began to notice over the past year. Those who know me know I love to travel, and would go just about anywhere in a heartbeat. But in spring 2014 I had a flight booked and entire trip planned to Oslo, but on the day of departure I couldn’t get on the plane. I was terrified and I didn’t know why, so I spent days/weeks beating myself up for such an irrational decision to not go. I mean, really? I’ve been to 15 countries, half of those travelling solo. I’ve had so much shit thrown at me while travelling (figuratively and literally, as some of you may remember!) that I know I’m fully capable of dealing with many worst case scenarios. And yet…

I’d hoped it was a one off, but then in November when I was meant to go to New York I once again panicked. I sent a text to a close friend stating “I can’t go to New York. I just don’t think I should go.” and when she asked “How come?”, I replied “I’m terrified.” Truthfully, the only reason I did end up going was because of an argument at home and the resulting fear of staying and dealing with the ramifications of that outweighed my fear of going on the trip.

That trip was two months ago now, and since returned home my bubble has snapped back in around me. I don’t leave the house for days on end (a week in a few instances), and when I do, I don’t venture far. And because of this, every time I go out, it’s more difficult than the last time.

After my appointment with the psychiatrist last week I was so utterly frustrated with myself and how bad this has gotten that I got in the car and drove to Toronto, where I got out for about 15 minutes before driving back home. I then had a massive panic attack, of course, but two steps forward, one step back is better than the reverse. The leap without looking approach has always been my go-to in the past, and has served me well. I mean just over a year ago I went for a one week holiday to the UK, but decided to skip my flight home and stay for 10 months instead. Unfortunately I’m not in a position to leap right now. I have no money, no job prospects, and no where to go. I’ve been incredibly fortunate in the past to have people who took me in while I got back on my feet after a massive leap, but I don’t think such an option exists this time round. Plus, shouldn’t there be a point where I can do it all on my own?

I must also admit that one of the worst things about the bubble is that it doesn’t limit me to the space itself (though that does indeed suck), but it limits my interactions with people outside of the bubble. I can’t talk to people anymore. Partially because I don’t know what to say, and partially because I’m embarrassed about being a narcissistic, scatter brained mess (and who on earth wants to have anything to do with that?). It’s easier just to not talk to people. Their lives are going so well, and the last thing I want to do it be some kind of damper in that.

Anyway. The social worker has given me some mundane tasks to accomplish (leave the house twice a day, even if only to do a quick walk around the block), cook a proper meal (apparently eating cereal for dinner every night isn’t great?), and get in contact with some people she suggested. I’ve yet to technically accomplish any of these things since our appointment on Wednesday, and I feel beyond pathetic about it. But tomorrow’s a new day and all that.

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Let’s Talk About It

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My dad and I went to an event at Brock tonight called “Let’s Talk About It”, wherein a panel of students, parents, and nurses openly discussed mental health issues. It was really interesting, and well done. Three current students spoke openly about their struggles with different types of mental illness, the mother of a student discussed her experience both with her own issues, and being the parent of a child going through it (there was a recent article in the Review about them), and a nurse from Health Services moderated / answered questions.

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The whole thing was about an hour and a half, and anyone interested can watch a recording here. I was pleased to see that Brock’s relationship with students who are dealing with mental health problems has vastly improved in the years since I graduated. Not to say it was terrible back then, but it certainly wasn’t as good as it could have been. The event itself was put together by a committee that included Brock, CMHA Niagara, Niagara Public Health, and a student group called Active Minds.

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All of the speakers openly discussed their histories, victories, and loses with mental illness. It was incredibly emotional to listen to, and I give them so much credit for standing up there and doing it. I’m honestly not sure I could.

In saying that, I can’t finish a blog titled ‘Let’s Talk About It’ with an ‘Or not’ comment. I’ve always tried to be as open as I’m comfortable with, which has often meant writing over speaking. But I’m not sure I’ve really openly discussed my full experience before. I made a brief summary of it on Ending The Stigma, back before it crashed and burned. ‘Brief’ being the operative word.

So… *deep breath* …in the hopes of helping to break the cycle of silence, end the stigma, and ‘talk about it’, here we go…

Continue reading “Let’s Talk About It”

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Explaining Panic: An Open Letter

I’ve become accustomed to explaining (or attempting to explain) anxiety and panic disorder to people. Seriously, I should just print out little cards with the CMHA blurb written on them and pull it out whenever I meet someone new.

“Hi, I’m Spencer. Are you familiar with panic disorder? Here’s a leaflet…

What is panic disorder?

Panic disorder involves repeated and unexpected panic attacks. A panic attack is a feeling of intense fear or terror that lasts for a short period of time. It involves physical sensations like a racing heart, shortness of breath, chest pain, dizziness, shaking, sweating or nausea. Some people feel like they’re having a heart attack or suffocating, others fear that they are dying.

Panic attacks can be a normal reaction to a stressful situation or a part of another mental illness. With panic disorder, panic attacks seem to happen for no reason. People who experience panic disorder fear more panic attacks and may worry that something bad will happen as a result of the panic attack.

Got it? Awesome. Please keep it in mind in the future! Oh, and nice to meet you!”

Now, of course it’s never that straightforward and simple, but I’ve made a point over the last 5 years or so to not shy away from talking to people about it. Chances are that if we have even casual contact with once another you’re going to see me having an attack eventually.

Unfortunately, every once in awhile I reach a place of thinking ‘what’s the point?’

Especially knowing from experience that such a definition is meaningless to most people. Because in spite of a diagnosis from a doctor and the above explanation, I still find myself stuck in regular conversations where I’m told things like “for god sake stop it, you’re an adult!” or “just get over it” or “try harder” etc, etc, etc.

I understand that the people around me are frustrated, I really do. But saying things like that on regular basis do nothing whatsoever to help. In fact, not surprisingly, they hinder. Do you not realize that whatever frustration you’re feeling, I’m feeling tenfold? Honestly, you think it sucks being around me for an hour or two- Try living inside my head. It’s a nightmare. And, bonus, after a short period of time in my company you get to leave. I don’t.

And this is every single day for me. I have panic attacks for little to no reason on a daily basis, meaning that on a daily basis my body freaks the fuck out when my brains sends a ‘you’re going to die‘ red alert signal. My blood pressure skyrockets, my nose bleeds, it feels like someone is standing on my chest, and I can’t stop crying. This has become my life. Do you honestly think I’m not beyond infuriated with it? Do you not think that’s why I’ve been going to doctor after doctor, trying medication after medication for years? Did it ever occur to you the lengths I’ve gone to find relief from this? The things I’ve done that I would never even utter on this blog, but done nonetheless because at the time they’re all that worked?

I’m sorry that me and my imbalanced brain are an occasional annoyance to you. But this is my (often unbearable) reality. I can’t even escape it when I sleep! Did you know I wake up sweating, nose bleeding, and crying from dream-induced attacks on a regular basis? Plus the panic/anxiety is often worsened by other factors like depression and PMS. Please don’t even ask me what the trifecta looks like… I’ve only just worked up the nerve to talk to my doctor about that one!

Anyway, the point being: I know I’m a lot to take and if you need to bow out, I understand. You won’t be the first and you certainly won’t be the last. But for everyone else- the family and ‘you’re stuck with me forever’ friends- please don’t be too harsh. All of that frustration and anger you’re feeling towards me, know that I’m feeling it towards myself too. Spending too long with me, does not a good relationship make. Small doses, all that. It’s the reason I try and keep a lot of space between visits. It’s the reason I try not to stay in one place for too long. It’s the reason I generally stick solo.

I’m sure that sounds fairly sad and pathetic to most, but it’s how I roll. I’ve always done my own thing, in my own time, and have been fortunate enough in life to find some people who get that. And the rest, well, I vent to them in passive-aggressive blogs that they’ll probably never read.

IMG_8524One day I’ll know this to be true.

 

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3 Things

In an attempt to begin working my way out of my current rut, I’m putting myself on what I’m calling the ‘3 Things Weekly Challenge’. Every week I need to make a conscious effort to do each of the following (often difficult/scary) things:

  1. Make a decision / take an action that puts my health before anything else.
  2. Apply for / take action towards a dream job, regardless of the likelihood of success.
  3. Have a proper (non-email / text), honest conversation with someone about how things are going.

And when doing each of these things I’m not allowed to get myself worked up, be embarrassed, fear failure or judgement, or give up before trying.

I can’t say what positive changes this will make, if any, but I figure it’s worth a shot.

Also! Autumn is here! HUZZAH!

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Panic! At The… Everywhere

*Drops forehead onto metaphorical desk*

Up until about a month ago my panic attacks had subsided into an almost non-existent worry in my day-to-day life. Predictably, this is no longer the case.

I had stockpiled medication while in the UK and managed a good 2 months worth to bring back with me in June. Sadly that ran out in early September, and being unable to swing the $350 presecription, I switched to something my doctor gave me that looked like it had fallen off the back of a truck. It apparently should be equally as effective as the former medication, but after nearly 4 weeks I must strongly disagree.

I didn’t realize how well the former meds had been working until it stopped! I’m now back to several panic attacks a day, often with little to no trigger. It takes me a good 3-4 hours of tossing and turning to fall asleep at night, and most nights I spring awake just a couple hours afterwards from a dream induced panic attack (that as of late often include heavy nosebleeds).

And the icing on the cake is that I’ve now had run-ins with two different supervisors at work over this whole mess. Last weekend I had moved into a space just out of the customers line of site so I could catch my breath when the supervisor came over and said “oh, take your time, it’s not like we’re busy!” in the most sarcastic and condescending manner I’ve heard in a long time. And today I did the same (after asking someone to cover my spot for a few minutes) when a supervisor came up and asked “what is wrong with you?!” before rushing off, annoyed.

It’s not like I don’t know how inconvenient and annoying my panic attacks are. Trust me, I do. They’ve thoroughly ruined my entire life, so I really don’t need the extra outside bitching. And it certainly doesn’t help, and I’m actually nearing a point where I’m getting panic attacks before work from stressing that I might have a panic attack at work and wind up getting fired.

The incident last week happened before a break, at which time I wandered off, having no desire whatsoever to talk to anyone. Thankfully I’d brought my camera and went to sit in a nice quiet clearly, with a not-too-shabby view:

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IMG_1258.PNGI still don’t know how to explain this all, or even if it’s worth bothering.