Dark Ambient Relaxation - A Way To Delve Deeper Into Your Music

I've created a video in which I talk about and teach the way I relax, and how it deepens my experience of music. Thanks to Cryo Chamber for permission to use their music.

How To Get Through Night-time Anxiety

How To Get Through Night-time Anxiety

By Casey Douglass

Everything seems worse at night. Those thoughts that, throughout the day, ping off your mental bullshit detector’s armour, well, they seem to become armour-piercing sniper rounds that just might make your head explode at night. No matter what the cause of your anxiety, whether a mental illness that you are struggling with, or a stressful time in your life, night-time can really, really suck.

For me, it seems to link with falling asleep. The number of times I’ve dropped off feeling relatively okay, only to wake up at two in the morning flushed with anxiety... let me just say that it’s a lot. It’s a bit like watching a horror film in which the film-maker somehow made you forget about the thing hiding in the closet. With anxiety, jump-scares abound, and they are so much stronger when you are half-conscious. So how do you get through it?

Don’t Compound Your Misery

There are usually two aspects to anxiety: The anxiety that arises in response to something, and our response to that anxiety, which is usually more anxiety. If you wake during the night, anxious out of your skull, the first thing to do is to not compound your misery by adding another layer of distress.

Don’t berate yourself for feeling afraid, upset, weak, or whatever label you are giving yourself. Don’t fear the physical manifestations of the anxiety (the fast beating heart, the shakiness, the banging pulse that you can hear in your ears etc.). It might be hard, but you’ve probably been anxious before. Your body does its thing. You really don’t need to fear how that feels.

If you can accept that yes, you are anxious about X, and you probably will be for awhile yet, without adding too much mental chatter or fear, you will shorten the spell of anxiety, and probably reduce its strength to boot.

Racing Thoughts

Our minds are amazing. They are also neurotic and skilled machines at creating scenarios to fear. It probably kept us safe when we had to avoid predators in prehistoric times, where mistakes often were life and death, but in modern times, that’s rarely the case. In the early hours of the morning, fuelled by anxiety, our minds become the paranoid gods of our misery, presenting us with all kinds of ruminations and outcomes, to either hope for, or to fear.

If you can, watch the thoughts without following them too far down the rabbit hole. Maybe focus on your breathing while you do this. When you are aware that you’ve lost track of your breathing, you’ve probably been lost in thought again. If you watch your thoughts for long enough, the cycle of trying to reassure yourself and scaring yourself will play out enough times that you may even find it amusing. It’s like, “X will happen, I’m fucked!” And then “Oh, but if Y happens, I can get through X!” over and over, like a morbid tennis game, one in which the ball barely clears the net before it’s sent back to the other side again.

Reset Your Mind and Body

If you find the thoughts are too upsetting or overwhelming, and you’ve been struggling with them for awhile, get up and do something that will give your mind another focus. Some people won’t like getting up, but if you’ve been stewing in bed for an hour, what’s half an hour spent making a hot drink and reading for a little while really going to cost you?

If you don’t chose to read, you might want to avoid screen-based things, as these can often prolong wakefulness. Whichever activity you choose, don’t do it with the attitude of trying to keep the thoughts away. The harder you push against them, the stronger they will return. Do whatever you choose, but do it with the attitude of doing it while the thoughts are still there. This is acceptance, and while it isn't always easy, it is a valuable tool in working with anxiety.

The thoughts may disappear for a few minutes, and then come back, flushing you with anxiety again. Try to give them a mental nod and carry on reading (or whatever). After a few anxiety flushes, you might even notice that the thoughts don’t seem to hit with the same force any more. If you do experience this, you are probably entering a virtuous circle in which your mind and body begin to calm down. After awhile, you will probably feel like you might want to try sleeping again, so have a go if it feels right.

Decide Not to Decide

This is a short one but well worth mentioning. It’s never really advisable to try to make decisions and judgments during the night either, as they will likely be anxiety-based. Keep that kind of thing for the morning. And speaking of morning...

Always Darkest Before Dawn

If all else fails, try to keep in mind that you will likely feel a bit better once morning comes. No matter how shitty the night I’ve had, once it starts to get light, I get up, make a cup of tea and have breakfast in bed. I think eating probably helps the body shift mode, and by the time I’ve read for a little while, my mind feels more settled, and my body feels less tense. It’s happened to me often enough that, sometimes, it’s the only sentiment I can hold on to as the night progresses, and it usually turns out to be true.

***

There are no easy fixes for anxiety, nothing is guaranteed to work for everyone, all of the time, but the approaches above are all things that have worked for me time and again. As a matter of fact, I used them a couple of nights ago, and I use various aspects of the above on a daily basis in my general approach to my anxiety and ocd.

If you feel a question bubbling in your mind about any of this anxiety stuff, feel free to get in touch, either below, or by finding me on social media. Even if not, just come and say hi if you want, it’s lonely online at times. Also, please give this a share/like if you feel it was worth reading, then maybe other people might see it who otherwise wouldn't. Thanks :).

Adventures in Case Time 2: Ticking Feels Good

In my latest vblog, I talk about the way a checklist can help with feelings of achievement, particularly when you're depressed and struggling with motivation. Adventures in Case Time 2: Ticking Feels Good:

Adventures in Case Time - Episode 1

I've created the first video in what could be a regular video blog thing. I learned a lot doing it, and had a bit of fun (as you`ll see), but I'm hoping my second video will be a bit more concise in what I want to say. I may even get to the mental health / health stuff at some point. If you watch it, thanks :)

Dark Fiction - Quantum Suicide

Dark Fiction - Quantum Suicide

By Casey Douglass

(This story is about suicide. If you are struggling with mental health in this way, it might be best that you don't read it.)

The multiverse had finally been proven, a universe of universes, each with its offshoots, variations and duplicates, placing humanity in a kaleidoscope of possibility. It was early days with regards to what humanity might do with this knowledge, but for Elliot, it all seemed so bleak.

He tapped at his lab machine, the deep vibrations of the facility humming beneath his feet. It had been two months since a way to make contact with our “other selves” had been established, rapidly increasing the rate of research in a previously unheard of form of collaboration. Think how things would be if Stephen Hawking had been able to work with hundreds of other Stephen Hawkings on the same project. Sure, there would be some blind-spots due to the same mind chewing over the same problem, but heck, it was still a leap forward compared to working with lesser intellects.

Message number three-hundred arrived on Elliot’s screen. Another thumbs up.

People hearing about how their other selves are doing is a mixed bag. Some, naturally, will be having far better lives than the enquirer. Others will be struggling. In Elliot’s case, they all seemed to be struggling, not one in three hundred enquiries came back with a hint of promise. He’d have loved to come across an Elliot that had made it, that was happy, even simply content, but no. The Elliots of this existence seem doomed to suffer misfortune, ill health and misadventure, no matter how hard they try. He didn’t believe in God or a creator, but if he did, it would have been hard for him not to have suspected some kind of conspiracy against him. To what end, he had now idea. Maybe if he’d been left to his own devices, he’d have become a giant threat to the universe, a bit like a Bond villain having their teddy taken away when they were seven. It didn’t matter, his mind was made up, or rather, minds.

The multiverse is said to have branching events. That apple you eat in this universe not being eaten in another. Most people can understand this state of affairs, and most would expect that life decisions and events playing out in two directions, either happening or not, could lead to quite different lives. Elliot found it beyond aggravating that his own branched self just seemed to suffer wherever and however circumstances allowed him to be born. He wondered if he was in a kind of Hell, finding no peace or joy wherever he went.

Message number three hundred and one flashed up, another thumbs up. He felt it was pointless to delay any longer. He selected “Reply All” and replied: Schrödinger Imminent. Nice knowing you all.

Elliot had been collaborating too. A brilliant physicist and researcher, he’d linked up with many of his other selves and discovered something that nobody else had, so far at least. He had discovered the way that we are connected to our counterparts. It was a small quantum chord, maybe even the silver cord mentioned in those old books about astral projection and etheric bodies. It snaked off into quanta a few feet from the body, and this, it seemed, was our link. Not to anyone else, just our namesakes in other verses. Elliot, well, the Elliots, had decided that it might be time to stop their suffering, to use the equivalent of quantum scissors, and to cut that chord.

Experiments had been conducted on a variety of creatures, and across the board, severing the thing had meant death. So far, so good, but what about the way the universes work? If someone kills himself in one, another will split off where he didn’t end things. It was a tricky problem, but nanotechnology and its ultimate form, Schrödinger, saved the day on this point.

Schrödinger’s Cat is the thought experiment about putting a cat in a box with some poison that will release at random, and then sealing the box so that no one can see inside. While not knowing if the cat is alive or dead, it is said to be both at the same time. Basically, Elliot’s Schrödinger nanobot functioned by destroying the box, and subsequently taking the cat, whether alive or dead, with it. Across the multiverse, this seemed to halt the formation of a derivative universe, and promptly removed the subject from the one in which Schrödinger was administered. The nanobot would then travel along the quantum cord, sever it, and move on to the next universe, repeating its kill command over and over and over. It did this by phasing down, using some kind gap in space-time to make itself insubstantial enough, and small enough, to engage at a quantum level. Elliot wondered when this kind of thing would be called a quantobot. That's what he'd call it anyway.

Elliot barely even heard the hiss as the gas-powered injector shot Schrödinger into his neck. He didn’t know if Schrödinger would eliminate him from every universe, but with at least three hundred of his companions launching it too, and with the way that it duplicates and spreads, it stood a good chance of success, even if it took an infinity to do it.

They knew it was risky, that it could malfunction or fall into the wrong hands, but there was only so much you could do. Maybe he was a threat to the universe after all. They had each agreed to wipe their research as a precaution. It wouldn't disappear completely, as they could find no way to Schrödinger non-living technology, but they tried to destroy it as best they could.

Elliot felt a sharp pain in his gut, an opening, a flare of peace, and then felt nothing at all. Across the multiverse, Elliots dropped to the ground, like so many flowers being dead-headed by the most efficient gardener in history. Nothing new would be growing from these roots, and if the multiverse cared, it showed no sign of it.

THE END(S)

Opus Magnum – Adventures in Alchemy, Bondage and Depression

Opus Magnum – Adventures in Alchemy, Bondage and Depression

By Casey Douglass

When I slip into depression, I find certain video games quite useful. Some provide the kind of gentle absorption that gives me a slight break from myself, others offer me the capacity to be aimless in a fun way for little while. Zachtronics’ alchemy puzzle game Opus Magnum falls into the first category, a game that I thought I might find frustrating, but that has actually become the “mind food” game that I nibble at every morning. This post will look at some of the ways that I feel Opus Magnum helps me with my mental state, so if you are looking for a review, you'll have to find one elsewhere I’m afraid.

Anyone familiar with Zachtronics’ games will know that some of them are incredibly difficult. Even the “easier” ones can become quite complicated before you know it. If that wasn’t enough, they usually include a community-based “How Well You Did” screen after each puzzle, showing how the efficiency or speed of your design compares with others who’ve completed the same puzzle. It’s quite likely, if there was one, that your solution would place you in the “Holy Shit! What did you do?” category. At least after your first attempt anyway.

This might all sound like a bit of a nightmare for someone in the throes of depression. Not only do you get the stress of trying to solve the puzzle, you most likely will also have some urges towards perfectionism, and the prospect of some competition from a faceless community that will only increase your feelings of inadequacy doesn’t sound like much fun does it!

Unless, that is, you approach things in a more measured way, a way that might also help your thinking with regards to non-digital pursuits in other areas of your life.

Just Solve The Blinkin’ Puzzle!

I said something like this to myself at one point, when I’d caught myself dilly dallying about where to put a few of the components in my latest alchemical machine. It does cut to the root of the thing though. At base, I needed to solve the puzzle. The “how” didn’t matter, the beauty of the device was immaterial, the efficiency... well, who cares if it takes ten times longer than the design of someone else? Opus Magnum doesn’t put restrictions on how many gizmos you use or how long the machine takes to perform its function, so your first attempt can be a massive, slow monstrosity, and still produce the outcome you need. Also, and this is quite important, you can’t refine a solution to a problem unless you have something to refine.

How many other things does this approach apply to? A good many. A prime example is a writer who doesn’t write that first draft because they want it to be perfect from the beginning. If you don’t give yourself permission to experiment and fail, you aren’t going to get very far, particularly with any work that involves creativity. It really is pointless to worry about refinements to something when the “thing” hasn’t even been created. It’s a little like worrying about your car’s first year service... before you’ve even decided which car to buy, let alone bought the thing.

Break It Down

Opus Magnum has the player creating various products by way of alchemical agents, such as the elements (air, water, etc.), salt and lead. By manipulating these with various arms, converters and bond-creators (Aha! This is the bondage I mentioned in the title, sorry if your naughty thoughts led you to expect something more... leathery!) and breakers, you need to get the correct layout and bonds into place before the output section will count it as being made. Some of the patterns are quite intricate, so looking carefully at what is required can often make things less daunting.

I found a good way to approach this was to first drag the mechanisms that I knew I would need into place. Need to create salt from an element? You need one of those converter pad things. Need to create bonds in a kind of “Y on it’s side” pattern? There’s a gizmo for that too. Just having the tools out in the work area helped me to drill down into what was required. Then I experimented.

I would often try to make a certain part of the design, and if things went wrong, I’d do what I could to get around them. That pivoting grabber can’t quite reach the thing I need it to after those other things are bonded... Hmm, I'll make it an extendable one, or I'll put it on a track that will allow it to move. I guess I created additional problems trying to solve the original one. I then solved those and eventually solved the larger design issue. After feeling pleased with myself for solving the thing, I then had these “self-created” problems in mind when it came to refining my design later.

This design needed a triple-twisted bond pattern on the orange elements. Yep, it was a pain in the backside.

Being able to methodically work through something, solving the little hiccups that emerge along the way, is something that seems quite alien when your brain is in depressed mode. Some things in non-gaming life have no solution, others might, but they might require things that you just don’t have, can’t do, or have any hope of achieving. Being able to experience a tiny version of the satisfaction that problem solving can bring feels nice. It might be a bit of a tease with regards to “Why can’t I solve all of my problems in this way?” sentiments, but I'll take it for now.

My brain is tired, my thoughts are self-critical, and I feel a bit muddled about what I wanted to say with this post and how long it’s taking me to say it. I’m going to go away and rest/reflect for awhile. I'll come back to this another day.

Small Bites

It does no good to smash your brain against a problem for too long without a break. I’ve been dipping into Opus Magnum for maybe 20 mins at a time, often just once a day. It’s enough time to progress a design and feel nearer to the solution. Even if all I manage to achieve in one session is another couple of atoms bonded to a design in the correct place, it’s enough to keep my mind interested and to generate a small feeling of competence. Competence is something that I don’t often feel, so again, a “lite” version of the feeling to show that I still have brain circuits that can bring the feeling about, is very welcome.

I recently reviewed abook about Kaizen, a system that utilises the doing of tiny actions to get big results. The “only adding one extra atom” to my alchemical machine goal allowed me to take the pressure off myself and, over the days that followed, would eventually see the design complete. The comparison with writing is again, easy to make. People suffering with writer’s block are often told to just write a little, maybe one sentence per day. They are free to write more, but they are also free to go and do something else after that one sentence has been written. Over time, even if only one sentence is completed each day, eventually they will have written a short story or article, or given even more time, a book. As someone who easily suffers from overwhelm, I like this approach very much indeed. The notion of behavioural activation is at play here, that doing the thing might not initially be fun, but finding satisfaction from doing it, over time, helps you to feel like doing it a bit more, and maybe even finding some mastery in the thing that you are doing.

One of the machines I created. It's not that efficient but it gets the job done.

Lead into Gold

I guess that’s what I like about Opus Magnum. The thought processes that I have to go through to overcome the puzzles are ones in which I can see the parallels with other areas of life. When you are feeling depressed, fatigued and ready to give up on life, even the smallest things seem impossible. The manner of breaking things down into even smaller steps, and taking little bits of action on these, is probably one of the most useful ways to edge yourself towards things that you value. Having the freedom to do this is what Opus Magnum grants the player, and is one of the reasons that I’ve seen it described as being one of the most accessible Zachtronics titles. If there was a strict “Achieve this in ten cycles” style failure state, I think I might have bounced off Opus Magnum after an hour or two. As it stands, I keep going back to it to get a small taste of those mental states that seem so scarce in my non-gaming life. Maybe one day I'll feel satisfaction over something more than solving a puzzle in a game. Until then, I’ve got elements to bond.

Post Script: I originally thought that this piece would be finished and up on my site before now, but my mood and health imploded again. The irony of a piece about depression being held up by depression isn’t lost on me. Maybe I should write something about sex or wealth, so that said article could be held up by something more pleasurable. The whole time I was tinkering with this post, my mind has been yelling at me as to “What’s the point?” and “It’s not worth it!” Even today, the day I’ve published it, I admit that I still feel that way. I decided to post it, and I did, so that is what I am getting from this, the knowledge that I followed through with it and got it posted up. I guess that’s a win but it doesn’t feel like anything right now, which is a numbness that is one of my closest companions most of the time. Anyway, thanks for reading, and if you've found any particular games good for mood, please let me know below in the comments or find me on social media :).

Dark Fiction - Fiasco

Dark Fiction - Fiasco

By Casey Douglass

(Contains gross-out humour).

Fiasco was both his nickname, and a very accurate description of his life to date. Sometimes, it was shortened to Fi. Most of the time, it was shortened to Ass. Which was a bit unkind, to say the least. Some people are coddled by fate, others are held down, ball-gagged and jolly rogered by it. No prizes for guessing which side Fiasco fell on.

Fi always gave the impression of a court jester out of uniform. It was partly why the palace guards ignored him and gave him the full run of the grounds. He used this power to his utmost, enriching his life, using the expansive royal library and, no, he didn’t. He used it to perv at the queen. It should be said that Fiasco lived in a realm in which royalty lived around every corner. Hell, even his postman used to be a king of somewhere apparently. It was just one quirk of the peculiar land of Knell. Another will be catching up with him any moment now.

He sat in the flower bed, a conifer hiding his presence from the roaming officials and guards. There were limits to their amiability. It was his secret place, and, more importantly, a place he could catch strands of the queen’s hair when she brushed it at her window. He didn’t do anything kinky with it, he just liked to hold it and know it was hers. He sometimes sat elsewhere, on those days when she was at a low enough window to see clearly. At other times, she retreated higher up the minaret, and on these days, he settled for the flower bed.

‘Achoooo!’

He was pulled from a deepening revelry by the sneeze. It was her, bless her beautiful nose, her rosy lips and her dimpling cheeks. If he’d been more with it, he’d have known to roll to the side and pray it missed him. As it happened, it landed squarely on his head, pushing itself over his face and body, like a condom slowly being rolled down a cucumber. His shout of disgust popped with a gloop as the goo parted around his mouth.

This is another quirk of Knell. Things that fall from on high grow and gain mass the further they fall. Things on the ground that are propelled into the sky become lighter and less substantial. It’s hell when it rains but very handy for space exploration, if and when they get around to inventing flying machines. I’d say it’s a classic case of swings and roundabouts, but swings really could put undue stress on the body in Knell. Maybe I’ll just say it’s a case of roundabouts, and seem a little strange.

In Fiasco’s case, the queen’s sneeze fell far enough and for long enough to become quite a ball of fluid. Fiasco sat stock still as he realised that he could feel it seeping down his collar. He shuddered. It was still warm. He stood and peered through the conifer. Amazingly enough, no one was around so he ran like he’d never run before.

Sadly, he hadn’t run before, and his epic escape lasted five seconds before he tripped over his own foot and landed face down on the cobbles. Shrill laughter rang from a window to his left, voices calling and jittering. He pushed himself to his feet one more time, and trudged through the palace gate, the guards snotting into their mouth-covering hands with laughter.

It was a long trek. The midday sun seemed to baked the stuff onto him, drying it into crisp platelets that moulded to his form. People pointed and laughed, as he’d expected, but he was lost in thought, which took much of the sting out of their jibes. It was a weighty matter that consumed his mind, one that both troubled and teased him. It was the kind that demanded an answer or would forever tweak his nipples. Basically, Fiasco was assessing if he still fancied the queen. Could he fancy someone who’d covered him in mucus? Or more troubling still, did he desire her even more? And if he did, what did that say about him?

It was because of these thoughts that he didn’t detect the smoke. Or the screams. Or the general scorched look that the brickwork had around him. He snapped out of his mental masturbation well and truly when he saw the body-parts littering the street.

‘Run you bloody fool!’ an old man shouted as he pushed past.

‘What’s happened?’ Fiasco shouted after him.

‘Dillexers! Exploding cask!’ the man yelled over his shoulder.

A whoosh of flame blew the door from its hinges on the next house along the road, hysterical screaming following its flight. Fiasco stood for a moment, things falling into place in his mind and coming up with a course of action that his body felt was feasible. He dashed into the building, the flames that were licking out from the windows hissing as they hit his gooey armour. Then the second explosion hit, and it all went dark for Fiasco at the point.

***

He came to in a comfy bed, crisp white linen dazzling him when he cracked his eyelids open.

‘He’s awake!’ a woman yelled, setting Fiasco’s heart into a frenzy.

‘Where am I?’ he groaned.

‘It’s okay!’ she said, kneeling beside the bed and taking his hand. ‘You’re safe. You’re a hero to boot!’

‘A hero?’

‘You saved that poor woman?’

‘I did? I don’t remember much.’

‘Yes, you saved her! You ran into that burning house and came flying out of the door with her in your arms.’

Fiasco squinted as a memory surfaced. It was the terrified face of an elderly woman. She was being propelled towards him by an explosion behind her. Her forehead had smashed into his face...

‘Ahh, I see.’

‘She was ever so grateful.’

‘That’s nice.’

‘You don’t sound very happy?’

‘It’s just that I didn’t really save her. I was just lucky.’

‘That doesn’t matter! From what I hear, you put yourself in the right position for luck to find you! You were very brave running into that conflagration. I couldn’t have done that!’

‘That was only because I was unlucky earlier in the day.’

‘How so?’

‘It doesn’t matter. I’m just no hero, that’s all.’

‘You were caked in soot and ash. We had to peel it off you. Strange that the old dear wasn’t as dirty.’

‘Hmm. When can I go?’

‘Anytime you fancy. You seem to be fine, but you might want to stick around awhile.’

‘Why?’

‘The old dear was a relation of queen Silvia. The queen wants to personally thank you for saving her great aunt!’

‘Silvia? As in the queen with a beautiful nose, rosy lips and dimpling cheeks?’

‘Yes, that Silvia! An actual wealthy queen who lives in a castle! Not some washed up has-queen who is washing the stains out of undergarments down the lane!’

Fiasco shifted his gaze to the ceiling as his mind entered overdrive. He had a decision to make, the one that had consumed his mind before he’d been distracted by flying old women and fumes. He hated it when his thoughts became locked onto a topic, it made him feel ill. His nipples began to feel as though they were being squeezed in a lobster’s claws. What should he do? What should he do?

THE END