Anyone who has ever meditated knows this; our minds are complex…

We as humans possess the unique ability to not only think, but also to analyse, judge and be affected by our own thoughts. Unfortunately for many, this ability is sometimes more foe than friend.

As a teenager, I never gave much thought to the goings on of my own mind. Then, my limited knowledge of anxiety was somewhat comical; agitation, fast-paced talking and awkward conversations that never quite fall into sync. My perception of depression was not dissimilar to those help-line posters on the back of toilet stall doors; a gloomy face in a grey room. I probably thought either state would be quite manageable, even enlightening – romantic to my artistic mind.

In hindsight, my self-talk was not very nice. At 24, when I became severely anxious and left in an unshakeable state of depression…

Those vague images of agitated bodies pacing rooms and pouting faces were erased completely. Nothing can prepare you for what is essentially a hijacking of the mind; perceptions are altered, fear is attached to situations previously meaningless or even pleasant, and a plethora of existential questions rattle through the mind as though on a loop. It is a very lonely place.

My initial approach to dealing with the constant rumination, racing thoughts and feelings of helplessness involved trying to suppress thoughts, loading up on sugar, wearing an elastic band around my wrist to snap should I think a ‘bad thought,’ and avoiding people and places that made me feel uneasy – generally trying to establish order over a mind that felt it could, at any moment, spin out-of-control.

I was so desperate to feel well, or at least comfortable, that I would force nice things on myself; trips out, movies, luxurious items, expensive dinners, tea and biscuits – trying to relay to my brain how nice these things were. But my brain wasn’t picking up. It felt as though it had shut down for maintenance, which in a way, it had.

Though I felt paralysed, I knew this change in me was not a disease or genetic fate, but a defence mechanism of sorts – a loud wake up call…

I tried to turn down medication, trialled supplements, spent many hours researching the human mind and, through a process of trial and error, was lead to the practice of mindfulness.

I had a few breakthroughs, a few relapses, up and down, back and forward. One evening when I was beginning to feel a little more stable, I met up with a friend for a drink. She had been dealing with a highly stressful situation at work and a colleague had recommended ‘Smiling Mind’ to her. Though I was very familiar with meditation by this point, I felt I needed something straightforward and based solely around mindfulness, not just relaxation.

I remember sitting beneath the fig tree in my garden with the first Smiling Mind meditation…

Body Scan. It seemed pretty basic, so I did not expect the new level of relief that came upon opening my eyes as the bell in my headphones sounded. It seems contrived but, surveying my surroundings, I saw that the vegetables and flowers growing by the garage seemed a little brighter and sharper at the edges. For a moment, my neighbour’s wind chimes sounded as Tibetan prayer bells.

Most of the meditations I had practiced before this point were geared towards calming down and distancing oneself from bodily presence. This new feeling reassured me that my intuition was spot on – I delved further into being with myself, and not treating every little thought and feeling as a blowfly to be swatted.

The real healing came at last when mindfulness was not only about the ten, twenty, forty minutes I would spend in meditation, but a completely new attitude towards my mind and thoughts…

Sure, a morning of cross-legged silence could be refreshing and serene, but what was I to do when things cropped up as I was walking to the supermarket or watching a film? As mindfulness expert Peter Strong told me, mindfulness is in the subtleties. Rather than pushing out those recurring thoughts, I would say to all of them “Hello. I see you. Welcome.”

Smiling Mind’s shorter meditations were invaluable in refining my practice and bringing mindfulness into my everyday life; sitting in the car or just before leaving my house to play a show – I could listen and bring myself back into the moment.

As I had expected from the experience of past heart aches and worries, the day I felt myself again would not come if I continued to wake each day thinking; “Will I feel normal today?”

I had to, as best I could, trust that I would heal and let it be.

Healing from anxiety and depression is a very up and down affair for everybody, but rest assured that even in the worst relapse, your mind never forgets all that you learn in periods of wellness. No matter how grey your perceptions have become, there will come a time when, without you anticipating it, you begin to notice the colour in things again. You just have to be patient and present enough to let it all in.

Please share Lucy’s story if you know it will impact others as it has you. Together we can break the stigma surrounding mental health.

To explore more of Lucy’s work (featured below) click here: http://lucyroleff.com/ or visit Smiling Mind to download the free App: http://smilingmind.com.au/