‘I forget everything’: the benefits of nature for mental health

As campaign launched to enshrine right to green space, Bolton woman describes how ‘tranquility walks’ helped her through lockdown

During Covid lockdowns, Sharon Powell felt alone. She was caring for her father, 90, who was deteriorating from Parkinson’s disease and dementia, and looking after him had become increasingly difficult.

Social life in her community in Johnson Fold, Bolton, had been Powell’s escape from the pressure at home, but when Covid restrictions were introduced “everything was just gone”. She was depressed, anxious and having panic attacks “like a washing machine on full spin”.

This article was amended on 21 February 2022, to correct the spelling of Trish Goodwin’s name.

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‘Relentless calls and constant abuse’: why Britain’s vets are in crisis

Vets are no strangers to pressure, but Covid and the huge boom in pets means they have never been busier – or experienced so much stress

By the summer of 2020, veterinary practices were beginning to feel the effects of the pandemic pet boom. That was the time that Melanie, a small-animal vet from the southeast of England, realised she no longer wanted to be in the profession. The feeling left her at a loss. All she’d ever done was eat, breathe and sleep veterinary medicine. Like many vets she had been inspired since she was a child: religiously watching TV shows such as Animal Hospital and Vets in Practice, mucking out stables to embellish her university application and completing a five-year degree before finding work at a busy practice. It was a vocation, not a job: she simply loved animals. “Ever since I knew what a vet was, I wanted to be one,” she says. “I don’t remember a time when I didn’t want to do that – until now.”

But for Melanie, the pressure of lockdown was just the start. During the initial mayhem, practices were forced to work within strict Covid restrictions. Many team members were off sick, isolating or furloughed. Melanie worked three shifts on, three shifts off with a skeleton staff, clocking two hours’ overtime every evening out of a sense of duty. The busiest day in the practice calendar was usually Boxing Day. But between March and July 2020, says Melanie, every day felt as if it was Boxing Day “if the toilet was flooded and the lab was on fire”. Staff bounced from the reception to operations, from remote appointments to emergencies, shepherding animals in for treatment from the street while brushing off abuse from stressed-out owners who were unhappy about wearing masks, didn’t want to wait outside or refused to accept that they couldn’t receive a home visit to have their cat’s claws clipped.

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Life after lockdown: how do we best recover from the pandemic?

Two years of Covid have wreaked havoc with the nation’s mental health. What can be learned from the survivors of other traumas and is there a way of thinking ourselves to a happier, healthier place?

It was October 2020 when I realised I was going to have to ask for help. I’ve always been anxious, but thanks to the pandemic, I developed debilitating health anxiety. A dire winter was coming and any respite we’d had over the summer felt like it was slipping away. I couldn’t get to sleep and when I finally did, I had nightmares. My stomach churned and my hands shook so badly I had to give up caffeine. I developed a chronic reflux cough and, on more than one occasion, got into such an irrational spiral about it being Covid that I had to book a PCR test just to be able to function.

“One of the most diabolical things about this pandemic is the on and on-ness of it all,” says Amanda Ripley, author of The Unthinkable: Who Survives When Disaster Strikes – and Why. “Humans can withstand a lot of turmoil and instability if they can recover.” Prior to Covid, Ripley studied people who survived tornadoes and terror attacks, emergencies for which the mental health consequences are much better understood than the long, slow-burn, seemingly endless one we find ourselves living through.

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Ten ways to take control of your smartphone

Overwhelmed by messages, notifications and distractions? You can reclaim your focus without a full digital detox

Are you in control of your smartphone or is it in control of you? Sometimes it is difficult to tell. One minute you might be using FaceTime to chat with loved ones or talking about your favourite TV show on Twitter. Next, you’re stuck in a TikTok “scroll hole” or tapping your 29th email notification of the day and no longer able to focus on anything else.

We often feel like we can’t pull ourselves away from our devices. As various psychologists and Silicon Valley whistleblowers have stated, that is by design.

Becca Caddy is the author of Screen Time: How to Make Peace With Your Devices and Find Your Techquilibrium (Blink, £14.99). To support the Guardian and Observer order your copy at guardianbookshop.com. Delivery charges may apply

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Psychiatrists warn of police and crime bill’s impact on young people

Academics and clinicians say bill ‘will have a profound negative impact on young people’s mental health’

Hundreds of clinical psychiatrists and psychologists have warned that the police and crime bill reaching its final stages in parliament “will have a profound negative impact on young people’s mental health”.

“We cannot think of better measures to disempower and socially isolate young people,” they say in an open letter signed by more than 350 academics and clinicians and published online.

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I interviewed hundreds of people in search of the perfect routine. I realised there isn’t one

In our pursuit of improvement, we’re often told consistency is key. But obsessing over productivity means ignoring how our days vary – and how we vary within them

In our culture that places productivity on a pedestal, an optimised routine has been sold as the salve to all kinds of dilemmas. Lost your job? Stick to your routine. Experiencing anxiety, depression, or grief? Find a routine. Living through a pandemic? Get a new routine.

Sometimes we do need the support of a schedule. Routines are beneficial – they appear solid, they promise order, they seem reliable. They can be comforting, providing a sense of certainty and control in a world that offers neither. For some, a routine is crucial to reduce decision fatigue and simply get through the day, but for others the constant vigilance is exhausting.

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‘I’ve been expecting things to fall apart at any moment’: Dan Smith on 10 years of body dysmorphia, burnout and Bastille

He has found critical and commercial success, while behind the scenes the frontman has battled with his self-confidence and severe stage fright. He explains why he still loves being in the band

Dan Smith doesn’t know how to switch off. In the decade or so that he has been the creative heart, and frontman, of the band Bastille, he has thought about music constantly. There was a two-week period over Christmas and new year where he thought he had managed not to. Then he went to a double bill at the cinema.

“I got the whole way through the first film and three-quarters of the way through the second film before I had to leave, sing into my phone in the corridor awkwardly, and then come back in,” he says. “If I have a song idea that pops into my head, I have to get it down. It will eat away at me if I forget it, or it’s just on loop in my head.”

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‘Don’t plan it, just go!’: how to be spontaneous – and grab some unexpected fun

The pandemic has left our best-laid plans in disarray, but we can still have spur-of-the-moment adventures

Back in the wild old days, my best buddy and I used to call going out “looking for trouble”. We weren’t hoping for a punch-up or a little light robbery, but a spontaneous adventure involving music, strangers or just the city at night. All that spur-of-the-moment fun has taken quite a beating since the pandemic began, for many millions of us. First came the lockdowns, social distancing and closed venues, then the cautious reopening when even a trip to the pub or an art gallery had to be booked weeks in advance. And now, just when it seemed the world was finally getting back to normal, Omicron has come wielding its everything’s-off-again sledgehammer, crushing all those dreams of nights out, holidays and raucous parties. Not only does it seem foolish to plan anything, but after two years of frustration and self-restraint, it’s hard to summon up the enthusiasm to do anything off the cuff.

And that’s quite a loss. While we often think anticipation is half the fun, in 2016 researchers from two US universities found that people enjoyed activities more when they were impromptu. Scheduling a coffee break or a movie, for instance, made them feel “less free-flowing and more work-like”, wrote the authors. As Jane Austen put it 200 years ago in Emma: “Why not seize the pleasure at once? – How often is happiness destroyed by preparation, foolish preparation!”

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Skateboarding in middle age: ‘It helps me switch off’

It’s good for mental health, a study found, but what’s it like being an older person at the skatepark?

Skateboarding in middle age can help people feel empowered and reduce the chance of mental health issues such as depression, according to a study.

Dr Paul O’Connor, 46, who published the research and is a lecturer in sociology at the University of Exeter, said he wanted to look at the phenomenon of ageing within a subculture.

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We know the hell we’re in. It will get worse before it gets better | Melbourne ICU nurse

I’ve seen people die without their family. It used to bring me to tears. Now I just feel weary

My therapist says it’s OK that sometimes I feel dead inside.

I’m a critical care nurse. I worked in intensive care for all of 2020 and 2021.

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Your attention didn’t collapse. It was stolen

Social media and many other facets of modern life are destroying our ability to concentrate. We need to reclaim our minds while we still can

When he was nine years old, my godson Adam developed a brief but freakishly intense obsession with Elvis Presley. He took to singing Jailhouse Rock at the top of his voice with all the low crooning and pelvis-jiggling of the King himself. One day, as I tucked him in, he looked at me very earnestly and asked: “Johann, will you take me to Graceland one day?” Without really thinking, I agreed. I never gave it another thought, until everything had gone wrong.

Ten years later, Adam was lost. He had dropped out of school when he was 15, and he spent almost all his waking hours alternating blankly between screens – a blur of YouTube, WhatsApp and porn. (I’ve changed his name and some minor details to preserve his privacy.) He seemed to be whirring at the speed of Snapchat, and nothing still or serious could gain any traction in his mind. During the decade in which Adam had become a man, this fracturing seemed to be happening to many of us. Our ability to pay attention was cracking and breaking. I had just turned 40, and wherever my generation gathered, we would lament our lost capacity for concentration. I still read a lot of books, but with each year that passed, it felt more and more like running up a down escalator. Then one evening, as we lay on my sofa, each staring at our own ceaselessly shrieking screens, I looked at him and felt a low dread. “Adam,” I said softly, “let’s go to Graceland.” I reminded him of the promise I had made. I could see that the idea of breaking this numbing routine ignited something in him, but I told him there was one condition he had to stick to if we went. He had to switch his phone off during the day. He swore he would.

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Lost your get up and go? Here’s how to get it back

After a lifetime of loving exercise, Martin Love lost his motivation. But where had it gone? And could he get it back? Plus, five experts on how to maintain your mojo

On my parents’ mantelpiece, among the pictures of smiling grandchildren, lopsided graduation hats, old sports cars and a young soldier in smart uniform, is a picture of heroic athletic endeavour. In a little silver frame is a small blond boy in a white vest straining every sinew as he belts around the corner of a grassy athletic field, the parallel lines of the track marked out in white chalk stretching into the distance. He seems to be so far ahead of the pack that he’s almost on his own. He’s a champion in the making! Is the podium ready? Is that the music from Chariots of Fire you can hear?

The sad truth is that the little boy is me and I was so far off the pace everyone else that my dad was able to step out on the track to take the picture. “You were miles behind. It was almost as if you were running in slow motion,” he says now, with a laugh.

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When did I decide to stop living in denial? While lying on a plane gangway during a panic attack

I had refused to accept my PTSD had returned. But on a flight to Budapest it became impossible to ignore

It is hard to pinpoint the worst moment of your life. But when I think about my lowest ebb, a certain image begins to solidify: me, lying in the gangway of a plane, the cabin crew administering oxygen via a canister and a mask as we descend to Budapest airport and other passengers look on (bemused or horrified, I couldn’t say). A couple of minutes previously, a fog had descended on me as I sat in the seat next to my boyfriend; peculiar black clouds coalesced at the margins of my vision. I was passing out. “I need to lie down,” I said, with some urgency. “I need to lie down, now.”

Why does this image stand out? I suppose it is because, ultimately, it is about denial – and the point at which that stops being possible. The thing I didn’t want to know was that I was ill. Again. I had no business being on a plane. I had only been able to get on the plane at all as a result of the large white wine and two co-codamol tablets I had necked at the airport. It was no doubt the chemical effects of these that led to me almost blacking out. That and the fact I had been hyperventilating for the duration of the flight.

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Fatigue is an oppressive cocoon. It has made me seek joy wherever I can

I have not ‘overcome’ anything, but I am happy and hopeful. Chronic illness is sometimes described as a form of grief, but I prefer to think of it as beginning the next stage

Four years ago, I caught the flu – and I am still stuck in bed, struggling to breathe. A bit like those with long Covid now, I developed postviral fatigue after a short illness. You could say I was into viruses before their mainstream second album.

Born with a muscle weakness, I was already familiar with the fragility of the human body. But the overnight change, post‑flu complications, hit me like a truck. In the early days, stuck on a ventilator and barely able to move, my brain was so traumatised that I thought my bedroom curtains were on fire. I didn’t even have curtains.

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I tried to run from my brother’s death – but therapy helped me confront my traumatic past

My tank was empty. No matter how much I willed myself to carry on as normal, my body and mind resisted. It was time to stop running

When my older brother died, the first thing I thought about was work. I had just moved to New York from London, so my family had to break the news over the phone, grappling with my grief while still sucker-punched by their own. But if you had asked me at that moment, I would have told you there was no grief.

Instead, I immediately began thinking about which editors I was going to have to let down. What work might fall by the wayside for ever? I quickly calculated the upsides of my “time off”. At least I would have more time to spend on that long article that was due. Then I thought about going for a run. Or shouting at somebody. Mostly, I thought about getting off the phone. It was all an inconvenience. Had my family – always so keen to remind me of where I had come from and who I was never going to get to be – just passed on this news to ruin my day?

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Check mates: how chess saved my mental wellbeing

Sam Parker’s grandfather taught him to love chess, a joy he rediscovered in the pandemic, along with a deeper understanding of its positive effects on mental and emotional health

My grandfather was a man with a tut as loud as a dropped plate. He’d deploy it whenever you fell short in some way: a length of the pool finished too slowly; a garden bed not weeded well enough; a portion of vegetables left unfinished. But he softened over chess, a game he bequeathed to me over long sessions, played in our pyjamas by the fireplace. Across the board, his sternness would melt into a kind of pensive calm, the admonishments replaced with instructions and then a small smile when he saw the move that would win the game and send me to bed.

He played chess all his life and was chairman of his local club right up until he entered the retirement home where he died, but I didn’t follow his example myself until some 25 years later. By then it was too late to thank him.

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‘A breakthrough, not a breakdown’: one woman’s quest to transform mental health care in India

Psychologist Ratnaboli Ray’s recovery from a mental health crisis inspired her to fight for women suffering in ‘abysmal’ conditions in West Bengal’s state institutions

  • Photography by Ranita Roy for the Guardian

Ratnaboli Ray regards one of the lowest points of her life as a breakthrough. After years in an arranged marriage in which she felt stifled and trapped, her mental health took a catastrophic turn in 1997, when she was in her mid-30s.

“I was feeling very caged, I was not able to express myself,” she says, from her home in West Bengal, India. She describes the psychological symptoms as like a pressure cooker bursting. “I used to get angry, have weeping spells. I was neglectful of my young son.”

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Contact with nature in cities reduces loneliness, study shows

Loneliness is significant mental health concern and can raise risk of death by 45%, say scientists

Contact with nature in cities significantly reduces feelings of loneliness, according to a team of scientists.

Loneliness is a major public health concern, their research shows, and can raise a person’s risk of death by 45% – more than air pollution, obesity or alcohol abuse.

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How can I get over a breakup that I brought upon myself? | Ask Annalisa Barbieri

You need to talk about your feelings of guilt and insecurity so you can start to forgive yourself

I’m 26 years old, and have been having a really hard time in the past few months due to a breakup I brought upon myself.

Last year I started a long-distance relationship with a girl. I loved her, but felt I was constantly struggling with my emotions and honesty due to my insecurity. This caused me to be needy, desperate and always seeking some sort of validation from her, and we had a few breaks because of this.

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