Ruby Wax - A Mindfulness Guide for the Frazzled

Ruby Wax

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A MINDFULNESS GUIDE FOR THE FRAZZLED

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Penguin Life is part of the Penguin Random House group of companies whose addresses can be found at global.penguinrandomhouse.com.

First published 2016

Copyright Ruby Wax, 2016

Cover design: Superfantastic

courtesy of Dr Paul Mullins and Professor Oliver Turnbull

All other illustrations and photographs authors own

The moral right of the author has been asserted

ISBN: 978-0-241-97207-6

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Id like to thank Maddy, Max and Marina Bye,
Mark Williams and me.

Oh, and my husband, Ed, though I wanted to just keep it with Ms.

And also my editor, Joanna Bowen (but that really ruins the idea).

Looked on favourably by the Dalai Lama.

For those of you who have absolutely no idea of who I am, heres a short synopsis of my life so far

Im not one for blaming my parents for my depression (the nature/ nurture argument is ongoing), but here is a little background on them which may show I didnt have a chance. Both of them escaped Austria in a bit of a rush: had they not stepped on it fast, I wouldnt be writing this now because I wouldnt exist; youd be reading blank pages. Luckily, I come from a long line of Jewish people who spent their lives fleeing one country for the next, carrying our grandmothers and our coffee tables on our backs. The minute we set up camp somewhere, wed have to flee again. Ive inherited this syndrome of always moving on, searching for safety; trying, but never managing, to find home.

Once my parents hit those American shores, my father set up a sausage-casing empire and became known as the Casing King of Chicago. He was feared by all, especially those who were farm animals of the pork variety. Without going into too much detail, casings are made from pig intestines and encompass the blended-together bits of animal to make up a sausage. I was all set to inherit his empire, but politely declined.

My mother had a fear of dirt and spent most of her life on her knees chasing dustballs. Her method of child-rearing was based on Grimms Fairy Tales, in which children are cooked in a pie for not washing their hands before dinner, after having had their thumbs snipped off for good measure. For more details on my parents, such as how my mother used to hunt down crumbs across enormous land masses, I point you to my first book, How Do You Want Me?

My parents neither spared the rod nor spoiled the child. Whenever I was punished, I secretly made a list of how much money I would charge them for each mental assault. The bill was enormous. I was never reimbursed, but they did send me to summer camp, and paid to have my teeth straightened. I thought that was nice of them, so I reduced the debt.

I was happy for two months each summer, learning the spirit of competition, from tossing a javelin to the extreme sport of canoeing. We were told, if we were losing, not to be afraid to use a handgun. It was called Camp Agawak, which probably means go for the jugular in Native American; and the message was: Beat the opposition at all costs. Conquer! Conquer! Conquer!

Meanwhile, in high school I was the class joke and was, charmingly, called Tusks, as my front teeth resembled those of a wildebeest. I had to wear braces for ten years to move them back into the same time zone as the rest of me. Needless to say, I was not an attractive child. Yes, I know its hard to believe, looking at me now.

As far as becoming a performer was concerned, I was not an instant success. In high school I was cast as Earthworm in Hello, Dolly!. (It was not a big role.) But, with absolutely no experience or talent in my pocket, I moved to London, completely deluded, to become a great classical actress. I lived in a bedsit for the first ten years. The decor made it look like someone had haemorrhaged in there, and there was no heating, so I had to straddle my hairdryer to survive the frozen winters. I auditioned for every drama school but failed to get a place, despite the fact that I did a brilliant (in my mind) Juliet in a cardboard wimple that I made myself. (Never wear one: its impossible to walk through a doorway without ripping your neck off.)

Jump cut I ended up, through sheer drive, getting into the Royal Shakespeare Company; through sheer drive, I made a career in television that lasted twenty-five years; through sheer drive, I married and created a family and I drove myself so hard with that same sheer drive that, seven years ago, I crashed, burned and drove off the cliffs of sanity. Shortly thereafter, I was institutionalized and sat on a chair for months, too terrified to get up. I had suffered depression all my life, but this episode was the Big Kahuna.

My aha moment came when I realized I had used my success as armour to cover the chaos inside me. Id created a fabrication, like those smiling cardboard cut-outs of showgirls in Vegas. I was just a front; and, behind the front, no one was at home. I have noticed that celebrity is a fantastic antidote to a dysfunctional early life. However, after this deepest of deep depressions, I thought Id cut the cord of show business and move on, which was smart, because I was, in any case, becoming less popular. (I knew things were slipping when I found myself cutting a red ribbon to open a Costa at Heathrow. Terminal Three.)

I thought it would be a good time to reinvent myself and, while I was at it, find out who, exactly, had been inhabiting my brain all those years. Jump cut, again I started to study mindfulness-based cognitive therapy. I never do anything by half, so I did it at Oxford University and got my Masters, too and before I forget, did I mention I was awarded an OBE this year? So maybe it was worth all the agony but probably not.

What does she mean by this title? Why has she picked this topic? How much do you think shes being paid for writing this book? Do you think anyone will buy it? How old is she saying she is now? I never liked her TV shows.

These are just some of the comments Ive overheard from people who read my last book, Sane New World