Today I’m struggling with my mental health. I was going to leave it at that and allow you, the reader, to decipher it quite simply. I’d chosen to take a break from writing today.

I’m all for that. Unfortunately there are times when my enormous fear of letting myself down storms to the front of my mind and declares war with rationality. Write. You’ll feel better. Write. You’ll only be disappointed that you didn’t. 

Write. 

I’ve been thinking of Scotland. In 2021 we took a few days out of our busy autumn schedule and travelled up to Edinburgh. I’ll put my hands up now and say the sole reason was to go to Edinburgh zoo to see the Giant Pandas. And it did not disappoint! I, in fact, spent the better part of 30 minutes sitting and staring at Yang Guang, their male panda. I may also have cried. It was a special, special moment for me. It was just Mr W and I for the viewing. The zoo is situated on the side of a large hill and the Giant Pandas are right at the top of this hill. Go figure! We quickly decided to slog all the way up the hill first, making no stops, so we could see the panda without interruptions. And who doesn’t love to get the crap bit out the way first. Walk up the hill. Enjoy the slow, winding walk back at your own pace. Roast dinner, veg first! It’s the rule!

Floating on cloud nine, I eventually had to leave the panda and seeing a donut cart, decided on a treat. Hot, sugary donuts! Mmm! You know the type you get at a fair or by the seaside and you can barely hold the paper bag because they’re so hot, but your stomach can’t wait, so you bite into the molten doughiness and find instant bliss and regret. Yeah, those kind. 

So, while I’m waiting in the queue for my 10am donuts, there is a lady in front of me who asks the server whether she can buy just a single donut. The server says “no, they come in batches of 4 only.” The lady says, “oh, okay, there’s no way I want that many.” I internally gasped and reminded myself to include Mr W on my donut haul. She walked away and I felt sad for the lady who was leaving donutless. I quickly get my bounty, and as I turn to leave, I see her with her family. I made a quick decision and approached her. “ Would you like one I ask?” She gives me the once over with her crazy detector and says “No, that’s okay.” “Honestly it’s okay”, I reply, “go for it”. And she does, I say “Enjoy” and walk away. Mr W is sitting on a wall, watching me, he asks what I’m doing and when I tell him, he laughs. My reason for sharing, it’s nice to be nice. 

There are such deeds in the world that have become a bit of a phenomenon. The ‘Pay it Forward’ movement is really quite special. It’s popular in coffee shops in particular. When paying for your tall skinny decaf latte you add a couple of pounds to the bill and the next person gets their drink free. With the reminder to pay it forward. I’d like to think that the zoo donut lady paid it forward at some point in time, but also don’t like to think of telling someone to do it. I didn’t do it because it was on my mind to do something that day, it was a spontaneous thought, and that meant something to me too. And one less donut.

It’s often when we are thanked for something we’ve done, an unconscious act of ‘nice’ that we realise its power. I have a 12 year old niece who I haven’t seen a lot recently. Covid, life, geography. She’s always been quiet, loves to read like me and is going through a tough time at school. Only recently was I told this. A few weeks ago, she popped up on my personal Instagram feed as ‘someone you may know’. I hit the follow button and sent a message asking how she was. It felt rude not to, to be honest. I wouldn’t add anyone to my online ‘social’ circle unless I actually planned to have a conversation with them. It’s one of the biggest reasons I delete people. If we don’t talk, what’s the point? We had the briefest of all chats and that was that. Fast forward to last week and my niece’s mum gives me a call. We’re chatting away, catching up after a long absence of calls since Christmas and she stops to thank me for messaging my niece. I’m taken back to be honest. It was just a hello and how are you. However it turns out things have been difficult recently, she’s been withdrawn at home and school and very quiet. The night after we spoke, she was very chatty and smiley and her mum felt more relaxed than she had been in months. Not knowing this, I said that it really was nothing, I just wanted to say hello. And I was told that it had made all the difference in the world. That my niece felt seen and not forgotten. I won’t lie, that hit me in the heart with a different kind of ouch. I know what it feels like to feel alone, I’m not alone, but my anxiety makes me feel isolated. I know the joys of someone reaching out because they want to. Not because they’re fulfilling a duty or checking up on you. Sometimes it’s the unconscious acts that make the biggest impacts.

In the autumn of 2013, Mr W’s sister, my now sister-in-law, had a major car crash. She was taken to Whitechapel hospital in London. Working in London at the time meant I could travel easily from work, meet MR W on the station platform and see her for a few hours. At this point we’d only met a handful of times and I still felt like the new kid on the block. One particular evening Mr W had to travel for work, so I went alone. Unannounced. I took magazines, sweets, food and my dry sense of humour. All the things I would want in that situation. I only stayed an hour or so. My sister in law is a loved lady and had other visitors arrive after me. I went home and thought nothing of it. It’s what you do. Fast forward to our engagement, there’s talk of me becoming an official family member and how I had fit into the family from the start. I had made quite an impact on my sister in law. Dumbfounded, I asked why. Back then, and even today 9 years later, my sister in law would talk about my solo visit to the hospital and what it meant to her. She said it showed I cared,not just for Mr W but for his family. I shrug it off. It’s what you do. Someone you love, someone you care about, someone who needs you. You are there. It. Is. What. You. Do. 

I think about these moments and others when I’m sad, upset and anxious. It makes me feel better. It puts me in my place. It grounds me. I don’t know why. I don’t do anything to be seen or heard. I do it because it costs nothing to be nice, well maybe the price of a donut, but it literally doesn’t have to cost a thing. Whether the lady paid if forward. Whether I got told about my niece. And even if I was told of my sister in law’s gratitude. It makes no difference to whether I, we, everyone should be a little nicer. The reward should be secondary. It’s a selfless act. I’m no saint. No one is. But just because we’re not saints, doesn’t mean we’re automatically sinners. Maybe we can be floating in the middle. Being nice. Eating naughty donuts. And sending a hello out into the world. 

You never know who might need it.