What Bright Spark Invented November?

I do struggle with this month: the clocks go back, and the dark nights press in, winter rains start, the fields are muddy, and everyone seems to have a cold.  It lacks the glamour of Christmas, or the drama of snow, and has the dubious distinction of ending colder and darker than it began.  If November were a person, I wouldn't be hurrying to return their calls.

However, I refuse to let November get me down this year, a year when, although much worse things have happened to my family than a rain shower, we are all still standing.  November is also the season when you finally get to wear in the boots that you bought in the summer (and find out just how fantastically waterproof they are).  Its the season of hot chocolate, and apple crumble.  And right now, in the first half of the month, it is the season for drifts of leaves the colour of gold and amber, spilling out of the hedgerows along the paths.  If I grab every chance that I can to get out of the office and into the world, I do feel less fed up.

It is however a very hard month for Julie (who would prefer to go into hibernation for the winter).  School makes it hard for her to get out during daylight hours: she will soon be shuttling backwards and forwards in the semi-dark to sit in classrooms under electric light all day long.  She is permanently tired and miserable, and some days are very stressful.  There is growing pressure of work and assessments as the school year gets into its stride: it must feel sometimes as if she is on an endless conveyor belt.  Last week she had the excitement of taking a day off school for her hospital discharge, but this week has no such variety.  She struggles, and some days has needed a lot of support to get to any lessons at all.  She hears voices and thinks about killing herself.

At home we work hard to support and encourage Julie and bolster her fragile defences, but we also know now the importance of not getting sucked into depression ourselves.  Its easy to stop looking out for yourself in the middle of managing life in general and caring for Julie on top - when times are bad for her, you can feel so overwhelmed that you want to do more and more to support her, and cut down on things that don't seem so important.  But in the long run, keeping your own stress levels down is crucial, and you have to accept that there are limits to the amount of difference you can make, no matter how much you love her.  So whether its a long walk at weekends for me, or music lessons for Joe, or scout night for Julie's brother, we try to give everyone a regular break to do their own thing, no matter how trivial it sounds.

It is also important to manage our fear.  We are all afraid that Julie will self-harm again, Julie included.  It's natural to be afraid of something that causes so much devastation and is potentially so dangerous.  (Previous self-harm has usually required visits to A&E.)  But we have to confront this fear and acknowledge it rather than let it take over everything we do.  If the fear is not spoken about, it grows uncontrollably until we find ourselves saying, "If she self-harms again it will be the end of the world."  We have to face it and be prepared to say that it won't be the end of the world, no matter what happens: it will just be another incident of self-harm.  I have my stockpile of bandages, Joe always has a car with enough petrol to get to the hospital, Duncan is old enough to be look after himself if necessary.  We can cope with it if it happens because we have coped with lots of stuff.